


a lonely warrior

by ohallows



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast), The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: (characters will also be updated bc i want to keep some a surprise yk), (tags will be updated), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Ghosts, Identity Issues, MCD is either off-screen or temporary bc video game mechanics, Memory Loss, Prophecy, Resurrection, Sign Language, Video Game Mechanics, mute main character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: “Zolf… Zolf…”The faint, disembodied voice echoes around the chamber as the walls slowly begin to glow, casting the entire chamber in a dim blue glow. The colors change, shifting from purple, to pink, to black, to white, and then back to blue, shifting slowly through the colors as the room seems to be almost coming to life.“Zolf…” The voice comes through again, stronger, and there’s a flash of light from the small raised platform in the center of the room where a man with a long beard and longer hair lays still. He’s covered in scars; thin white lines tracing along his skin, carving through the tattoos that have been permanently etched onto his body.“It’s time to wake up.”
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> breathes. yes i Am writing another fic in which the mc doesn’t speak out loud, but one of the great things abt botw is that link does canonically speak in it and because link is ALSO mute, i’ve chosen to believe that sign is just. the standard in this world! everyone knows it. 
> 
> i’ve been thinking of this au for like a solid six months. we out here  
> zolf will be taking this journey much quicker than i did it’s like if i tried to do a speedrun of this game instead of climbing to the top of every mountain to take glamour shots of link at night
> 
> also i do not know any sign language, so i did my best to research and portray it accurately but if anything is wrong pls PLS tell me so that i can correct it ty  
> UPDATE: originally, i had used italics to represent zolf's sign. it has since been updated to just be in quotes, but he is still using sign language! ty to ross for telling me

**_Zolf… Zolf…_ **

The faint, disembodied voice echoes around the chamber as the walls slowly begin to glow, casting the entire chamber in a dim blue glow. The colors change, shifting from purple, to pink, to black, to white, and then back to blue, shifting slowly through the colors as the room seems to be almost coming to life. 

**_Zolf…_ **The voice comes through again, stronger, and there’s a flash of light from the small raised platform in the center of the room where a man with a long beard and longer hair lays still. He’s covered in scars; thin white lines tracing along his skin, carving through the tattoos that have been permanently etched onto his body. 

**_It’s time to wake up_** _,_ the voice cajoles, sounding almost _fond,_ and a rumbling noise outside causes the ceiling to vibrate, shaking loose a piece of stone that crashes to the ground below. 

The man laying on the stone table wakes with a gasp, eyes snapping open as he stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t move, for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching as the blood begins to pump around his body once more, leaving pins and needles in its wake. The light in the chamber grows brighter, casting long shadows across the walls, and he glances confusedly from left to right, trying to figure out where he is. 

**_Zolf. You’re awake._** The voice is soft and soothing, and familiar in a way that he doesn’t know how to explain. Just the sound of it makes his heart swell with grief, and he brushes at his cheek, squinting when he notices the single tear track there. 

He has no idea who it is. No idea why he woke up in this chamber with his entire body feeling like it wasn’t _his,_ but he knows each and every scar that stretches across his chest even if he doesn’t recall how they happened. It’s _him,_ he knows that, but he feels… a disconnect, almost. 

It’s probably to do with the fact that he can’t _remember_ anything, even though all of this feels like he’s been here before. 

The voice had called him... _Zolf._ He frowns. The name… _sounds_ right, in his head. And it’s as good a name as any. Strong. Short. Easy to shout in a fight, if one was particularly inclined to that sort of thing. 

The lights around him change again, turning to a dull silver, and he sits up, swinging his legs around the side of the platform and resting his feet on the cold stone ground. Or, well, resting his _foot_ on the cold stone ground. His left leg is missing, below the knee, and Zolf touches the edge of the long-healed wound, wondering at the ropy scar he sees there. He notices a prosthetic - nothing fancy, he doesn’t think, resting against the wall, and picks it up. It’s made of some sort of silvery metal, and Zolf examines the various clasps and buckles curiously. 

He rests it against his limb and his hands begin to work on muscle memory alone, quickly attaching the prosthetic without Zolf really thinking about it. A few moments later, Zolf is staring at the secure prosthetic, tightly fitted to his leg, and tries his best to tamper down his confusion. Instead of thinking about it - mostly because he feels on the verge of a proper breakdown, now - he glances around, taking stock of his surroundings. 

He thinks he’s in a cave - or, at least, he’s in some sort of chamber, with no light filtering in. And there was a voice, as well, someone who… knew him? But they haven’t spoken in a while, not after saying Zolf was awake. 

He sighs, and begins plaiting his beard. The motions are… familiar, in a way. As though he’s done this a thousand times before, in a thousand lifetimes, and just as he finished, he notices a circlet with an emerald set into the golden ring, and uses that to secure his braid in place. He’s not… completely sure what to do with his hair, really, especially with it this long, but there’s a hair tie that was sat next to the circlet, so he wraps it up in a tight bun and hopes that it will stay. A few strands hang over his face, but he isn’t going to redo the entire thing, so they’ll just have to stay there. 

He goes to motion with his hands, to try and communicate something, but if whoever is speaking sees him, then they either don’t understand sign language or they don’t answer. Bloody helpful, that. He looks around the room again, and swears that the light is playing tricks with his eyes. There’s a tunic, a belt, and a pair of trousers sitting on the edge of the platform he was sat on, clothes that hadn’t been there before; Zolf may not completely trust magic at the best of times, but he’s a bit tired of just sitting here in his pants, so he pulls them on, stumbling a bit as his body feels like it’s getting re-used to movement. 

Everything is still a bit stiff, and Zolf wonders how long he’s been asleep for. He wishes he could remember instead of having to wonder, and there’s not even anyone around him he can _ask._ He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think, tries to remember the last thing that happened; nothing concrete swims to the front of his mind, other than the flash of a blue scarf, a ring that he doesn’t recognise, and different voices all laughing together that leave his head all too soon. Frustrated, he looks up again, scanning the room now that the glow coming off the cavern walls has gotten a bit brighter. 

The light glints off of a stone sitting on the corner of the pedestal. Zolf walks up to it, strange symbols etched into the side that give off a faint silvery glow. He tilts his head, staring down at it, and then it’s like a phantom brushes against his arm, and he almost unconsciously reaches out and picks it up. It lights up at his touch, the silver turning up to a nearly incandescent level before dimming, and Zolf turns it over in his hands as a small screen appears from the stone. It must be magical - there’s no way anything else could cause a projection from the stone that shows a blank, featureless map. 

**_That is a mobile stone,_ ** he hears, and glances away from the map, wondering if whoever’s speaking will deign to actually show themselves. **_It will help. You… you won’t remember, but. This one is yours, from long ago._ **

Zolf notices a slot in the belt around his waist; it’s the perfect size for the mobile stone, and he slips it into the belt. The weight is comfortable there, familiar in a way he hadn’t thought it would be. 

There’s a rumbling sound from over his shoulder, and he turns just as one side of the wall begins to shake, slowly lowering into the ground to reveal another chamber. He only hesitates for a moment, and then heads through the gap, right hand clenching and unclenching as though he wants to grasp for a weapon he doesn’t have. The chamber is empty, apart from another small pedestal that has the same kind of silver glow as the… what did the voice call it? The mobile stone? Something like that. He walks over, pulling it out of the slot in the belt, and sets it on the pedestal. The pedestal glows, and the stone sinks into a small depression there as the top of the pedestal begins to spin, ancient technology whirring away. The door on the far end of the room, which Zolf hadn’t noticed until now was marked with an intricate and complicated sigil of interconnecting card suits, shakes, and then swings open, causing sunlight to beam into the room.

 **_I’ve missed you,_ ** Zolf hears, and then a slight cough. **_I don’t know how to explain… everything to you. Every time we speak my power grows weaker._ **

**_You’re the one who will save us all, Zolf,_ ** the voice says, sounding fainter than before. **_I’ll be waiting._ **

The voice disappears completely, and Zolf looks around once more, taking the mobile stone and slipping it into his pocket. The door stops moving, and Zolf creeps toward it, looking up at the ceiling and signing a confused, "Thank you?"

There’s no response - not that he thought there would be - but he still feels a bit more settled, and heads out of the door. 

It’s a bright, early morning, and Zolf shields his eyes as he steps out into the sun, eyes hurting at the sudden onset of light. They adjust quickly enough, and he realises he’s standing at the top of a tall hill overlooking the land. He’s stood in a lush, green forest, one that stretches on for what feels like forever until it reaches a tall wall encircling the entire area. Beyond the wall, Zolf can see the edge of a massive desert, bordering onto mountains that stretch up above the clouds, covered in snow. A castle rests in the center, massive even though it looks far away; it’s shrouded in darkness, although Zolf can swear he sees strange shadows curling at its edges. In the distance, smoke curls above a volcano, and mountains creep along the edges of how far his vision can stretch. A swampland stretches off to the right until it reaches two peaks, obscuring the rest of the land from Zolf’s vision. 

He walks to the very edge of the cliff he’s stood on, and something moves out of the corner of his eye. There’s a man standing there, facing toward Zolf with a hood covering most of his face. Zolf takes a step toward him, and the man turns, walking a few feet backward to where a small fire is burning. 

It’s clearly an invitation, as much of an invitation as he’s going to _get,_ and so he starts to follow the path gradually sloping down to where the man sits. His food kicks against a small club on the way, and Zolf slips it into the harness on his back, as… insurance. Just in case, of course. He may not remember a single thing about himself except for his name, but he isn’t a fool. This could be a trap. 

As he gets closer, the man doesn’t stand, but Zolf keeps his guard up, ready to grab the club hanging over his back in case anything happens. The vegetables sitting in the pot over the fire are giving off a wonderful aroma, and Zolf knows he should probably stay back; meeting a stranger in a world where he doesn’t recognise anything can’t be a good idea, but his stomach is grumbling and he looks… well, not friendly, per say, but not like he’s about to kill Zolf if he asks to share. 

“Hello,” the man says, voice lilting. He sounds incredibly unconcerned about all of this, and doesn’t seem worried to see that Zolf has picked up a weapon on his way down. “I see you’ve finally emerged.”

Zolf stalls, hands half-risen to sign, and then blinks, tilting his head. "What do you mean, finally?"

The man just waves a hand, looking unconcerned. “Ah, nothing important, really. Nothing for you to worry about, at least.”

Zolf doesn’t completely believe him, especially considering how much he doesn’t remember (which is, well. Everything.) but he isn’t particularly interested in pressing. 

"Mind if I sit?" Zolf signs, and the man gestures at the log across from him.

“Be my guest,” he says, and Zolf does, listening as the fire crackles merrily along, slowly cooking the stew. 

"So, do you have a **name** , or am I supposed to just keep calling you ‘that guy’ in my head?" Zolf signs, and the man throws his head back and laughs. 

“My, some things certainly don’t change,” he murmurs, and then gives Zolf a pleased smile. “Call me… Wilde. Would you like some stew?” 

Zolf’s stomach answers for him, and Wilde laughs, grabbing a bowl from beside him. He doles out two perfect portions, and sticks a spoon in the bowls, before handing one over to Zolf. 

Zolf signs a thank you, and then digs in. The stew is - well, it’s not amazing, but it’s not terrible either. He thinks he could have done a better job, even though he isn’t sure _why_ he feels that way. Still, he isn’t going to complain, not when it feels like he hasn’t eaten in years. His spoon scrapes noisily against the bowl as he eats, trying to get every last little morsel he can. 

“I _do_ have more, you know,” Wilde says. He’s eating much more daintily than Zolf, and Zolf can barely tell if he’s touched his food at all. “Please. Help yourself.”

It… almost feels like a trap. Almost. Except Zolf’s already eaten some of the soup, so if this _is_ a trap, he’s already in trouble. And anyways, he’s still hungry. 

The sun starts to get a bit higher in the sky as Zolf continues eating, before finally having his fill and setting the bowl down to the side. Wilde, for his part, has pulled the hood even farther down over his eyes. He wonders if Wilde’s asleep - it would be easy to rifle through the man’s pack and see if there was something that he could use once he left, but something about stealing from a man who did nothing but give him a hot meal… well, Zolf isn’t going to do it. Even if he’s tempted. 

Instead, he pulls out the mobile stone, wondering if maybe it can give him… some sort of direction on where to go next, but it’s silent in his palm. Across from him, Wilde makes an interested noise, and Zolf looks up to see his hood’s been pulled back a bit, and he’s giving the stone a curious look. 

“That stone in your hand… why, that _is_ a relic, isn’t it?” Wilde says, and Zolf nods. 

"Someone said it used to be mine," Zolf signs, and Wilde tilts his head, giving Zolf an unreadable look.

“Well, then. I suppose it must be true, if someone _said_ so.”

Zolf squints - he thinks he’s being teased. "I didn’t say I believed them."

Wilde laughs. “A point for you, then.”

"So if it’s not mine, whose is it?" he asks, signing a bit more aggressively than he normally would, especially to a stranger. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Wilde tsks, and lounges back, stretching against the log. “Not my story to tell, really. It’s not yours _either_ , but you’ll have to find the right person to let you in on those secrets. Maybe those ruins will help you figure it out.”

"Ruins?" Zolf asks, glancing around.

“The temple, there,” Wilde says, and points toward a cracked and crumbling church that sits nestled up against a mountain. The land slopes away from it in the distance; Zolf can see it through the broken windows and the half-missing wall from the church. 

"Why would I have to go there?" Zolf asks, trying to spot anything around the church that would be of help to him. There’s nothing sticking out - something may be hidden in the part of it that’s still standing, but for the most part, all he sees are a few lone bokoblins stalking around the outside. Zolf frowns; he’s just woken up, and doesn’t really fancy having to immediately fight. Especially not on a just-full stomach.

“I’ll let you figure that out, hmm?” Wilde says, and Zolf isn’t looking at him but he can _hear_ the wink in his eyes. 

He whirls around, ready to yell at him for refusing to help more than that, but the man is gone. Disappeared. 

Zolf gives a two-fingered salute at the place where he was sat, and then struggles to his feet himself. The temple isn’t too far away, and so he sets off, pulling the club off of his back as a precaution. He’s not the stealthiest, and the prosthetic doesn’t help, even with how smooth it makes his movements. 

He’s nearly there when he feels a familiar presence creeping along the back of his shoulders, and he pauses, looking up. 

**_Zolf. Use the stone. It’s meant to help you on your journey._ ** The voice is back, sounding just as faint as it did before, but Zolf still listens to it, figuring that it _probably_ couldn’t hurt. He doesn’t have much else to go on, anyway. 

He pulls the stone out and turns it over in his hand, trying to figure out how to actually make it work. His fingers move slowly as he tries to figure out the patterns for the stone; nothing works, and after a minute or so of fruitless trying, he’s getting tempted by the idea of throwing the stone against the wall. Trying to avoid the ever-rising levels of irritation pooling deep in his chest, Zolf takes a few deep breaths, in and out, and lets his eyes slip shut. He thinks about the map, and his fingers move on muscle memory, tapping three different sides of the stone in a quick, staccato rhythm. There’s a small clicking noise, and Zolf cracks one eye open, to see the map there again, glowing faintly in the light. It’s still blank, except for a small, bright dot illuminating a place not far from where Zolf is now. He glances up, looking in the general direction, and sees a small hill there; something is poking up through it, but it’s too far away for him to really notice. 

The map disappears when he looks away, and he slips the stone back into the belt pocket as he decides to head that way. The temple isn’t going anywhere anyway, and if the weird magic map wants him to go this way, well - who’s he to say no?

He avoids the bokoblins stalking around the area, hiding between crumbled ruins and sneaking around to the back side of the hill. Something in his chest twinges when he thinks about stealth, and he swears that he can see the flash of a knife and a smirk in the back of his mind, but he shakes his head and it disappears. He climbs up the small hill, glad for his prosthetic - he doesn’t know how, but it’s like it was made for climbing. It isn’t long before he’s stood at the top, and then all he needs to do is drop down in front of the small crack at the entrance.

Thankfully, none of the bokoblins hear him, although there is a heart-stopping moment when one of them sniffs the air when Zolf lands, and he freezes, until the wind blows and they shrug, turning back to their post. He breathes a sigh of relief, and then squeezes in through the crack of the hill. It’s dark, but the second his foot touches a strange polished metal, the interior begins to glow. Patterns illuminate on the walls, and Zolf realises that whatever this is, it’s the same material and sigils that were inside the chamber where he woke up. He glances around, amazed, and then comes upon another familiar pedestal. He considers it for a moment and then shrugs, placing the stone carefully into the center. It sinks in, and then the pedestal rotates, glowing a bright blue.

The ground below Zolf’s feet starts to rumble and groan, and he grabs onto the railing in front of him to keep from losing his feet. It shakes some more, and then shoots up from the ground, hill breaking apart around it as it rises into the air. Zolf holds on as tightly as he’s able to, knuckles white around the post, and sinks to his knees when the rumbling gets to be too much. The tower slows and judders to a stop, and Zolf waits a moment to be sure it’s done before finally letting go of the railing. He stands and walks to the edge, looking down. The tower has risen to stand at about twenty metres tall, and he feels slightly nauseous as he looks down before taking a step back. Instead of looking down, he looks across, taking in the rest of the land. 

At the top of the tower, Zolf can see… what feels like everything. The castle is in even clearer view, and as he looks over, he notices a light shining from one of the upper towers, and tilts his head, shielding his eyes. 

**_Do you remember?_ **he hears, a voice brushing against his mind. The ground rumbles again, and Zolf grabs onto the nearest railing as what he thought were just shadows crawling around the sides of the castle reveals itself to be some sort of demon, slowly swooping around the towers as it roars at the sky.

 **_His name is Mars._ ** The voice returns, and Zolf can detect a strain underlying the tone that he hadn’t been able to before. **_He’s a being of pure evil. One hundred years ago, he rose from the shadows and decimated the land of Hyrule. I was able to contain him to the castle, but I can feel that my power is slowly weakening as he grows more and more powerful. Zolf, you’ve been asleep for those 100 years. But now that you’re awake… it’s up to you to end this fight, once and for all._ **

Zolf takes another step back, right hand clenching around the hilt of a sword that’s no longer there. The voice is so _familiar,_ in ways he can’t understand, and something about all of this feels _right,_ the way that the task falls upon his shoulders. He just wishes he could _remember_ any of it. 

**_Please, Zolf. Hurry._ **The voice fades away again, and Zolf reaches out, hand stretching toward the castle, as though he can do anything when he’s stuck on this plateau with no way down. He doesn’t know why he feels so sad, or why the grief is compacting in his chest, but he knows he needs to help whoever it is who’s been speaking to him. 

His shoulders square with resolve, and Zolf glares at the castle before looking around himself, trying to find a way, _any_ way, to make it to the castle. 

“Now, what’s a fellow like you doing in a place like this?” Zolf hears, and jumps, hand flying to his chest as he turns and sees Wilde leaning against one of the railings of the tower, giving him a cheeky grin. 

"How the hell did you get up here?" Zolf signs, and Wilde gestures to a small paraglider resting against his feet. 

It would be the perfect thing to get him to the castle as quickly as possible. 

"Can I have it?" he asks, and Wilde raises an eyebrow. 

“You want me to just… give it to you?” Wilde asks, and Zolf nods, knowing how strange it sounds but figuring it can’t hurt to try. “I have a better idea, actually. You seem like a strapping young man. I’ll give the paraglider to you if you help me out.”

Zolf knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but he’s still disappointed. "What do you need?"

“It’s simple,” Wilde hums. “I just need you to get rid of the bokoblins around my shack on the other side of the plateau. I do still have to live here even after you’re gone, you know.”

Zolf glares at him, but Wilde seems unconcerned. 

“Oh, it’s only a _few_ of them! Honestly, it won’t even _take_ you that long, and you’ll have the paraglider before you know it.”

Zolf sizes him up, for a second. If he jumps now, he could maybe get the drop on him. He’s already got a club; all he needs is one good blow to the head and Wilde would probably crumple, leaving the paraglider for him to take. he thought he was being subtle but Wilde just laughs, catching his gaze. 

“You won’t want to try to fight me,” Wilde says, and there’s something in his cadence that makes Zolf realise that he might not have the full measure of the man. “I may not be as young as I once was, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve, and I’ve been told they’re… not pleasant. And you - well, you’ve only just woken up. Seems a shame to have to stick you back in that shrine already. Plus, you have a _job_ to do, now. So… get to it.”

Zolf frowns at him, but Wilde just gives him a wink and then leaps off of the tower, paraglider snapping open as he slowly flies out of sight. 

The pedestal behind him makes what can only be described as a trilling sound, and Zolf turns, gingerly picking the stone up off of the center and tucking it back into his pocket. He spins in a bit of a circle, realising that there’s no ladder _down_ from the tower, and no way for him to call after Wilde to give him a ride. 

The only option is going to be clinging to the netting that seems to line the side of the tower; Zolf gives his prosthetic a considering look - it shouldn’t get all tangled up, not if he’s _careful._ He glances down through the opening at the side of the tower and lets himself drop down onto the first platform. Peering over the side, he realises it won’t be as hard as he thinks. He can simply use the netting to hold onto as he leaps down to each platform that dot the sides of the tower. 

First, though, he takes a moment and stares off in the direction where Wilde flew, looking for the shack he’s talking about. Zolf isn’t best thrilled with the idea of being taken by surprise, so he wants to get an idea of who he’s going to have to fight before just setting out. 

There are three camps of bokoblins that he can spot from his perch on the tower, and he makes a quick note of where they all are. All he has to do is get rid of them, and then Wilde will give him the paraglider and he’ll be able to go save Hamid. It’s just three camps; it can’t be _that_ hard. 

He climbs down from the tower, being as careful as he can, and eventually lands on the soft, dirt ground, slipping around the back of the tower as he avoids the pack of bokoblins guarding the front. It’s easy enough to find the shack from here; there’s a plume of smoke coming from a chimney set through the woods, with curls of the steam slowly dissipating above the treeline. 

The first camp he needs to get rid of should be… around here, Zolf thinks. He steels himself and peers around a copse of trees as he spots a few red bokoblins chasing around a small warthog, sticking it in the side with a sword as it squeals in pain and tries to escape. He frowns, and grips the handle of his club even more tightly as he gets ready to strike. Metal glints in the sunlight, and he realises that one of the bokoblins has a small hatchet. Zolf gives his own club a bit of a worried look - it won’t stand up for long against it, but if he can disarm that one _first_ and then use it on the others, he might actually stand a chance. 

He tries not to think about why he knows this much about fighting, when none of his other memories have returned. This is just… an instinct, honestly, and he closes his eyes, breathing steadily, before lunging into the glade. 

The plan works, which he didn’t expect. His club bashes against the head of the first bokoblin before any of the others can react, and it crumples, dropping the hatchet. Zolf grabs it and then ducks backward as one of the bokoblins swings at him, snarling. The other one runs at him, spiked club in its hands, and Zolf kicks out at it before it can swing, knocking it to the ground. He hears a whistle in his ear and ducks as a sword cuts through the air over his head, and then lashes out, cleaving through the bokoblins stomach as they fall to the ground as well. There’s only one left, slowly getting to its feet, and Zolf stalks over, slamming the flat side of the hatchet against its head before it can get its balance. It falls back to the ground, silent and still, and Zolf straightens up, looking around him as the bodies all shrivel up and turn to the same black shadow mass that surrounds the castle. Malice, as Wilde had said. 

Zolf steps carefully around it, grabbing a bag from the campsite that he slings over his shoulder, collecting a few of the small valuables they had on them. He has a feeling he’ll need to buy supplies at some point, and these could be an easy thing to trade for. 

He picks up a shield once the bokoblins have all fallen and inspects it. It’s rusty and half-broken; it probably won’t last long, but at least it’s something that can provide him with a bit of cover. 

One group of bokoblins down, two to go. They’re both on opposite sides of the field, so Zolf decides to head to the closest one first. He moves carefully through the trees; stealth isn’t his strong suit, really, but the bokoblins are making such a racket around a slowly cooking slab of venison that they don’t hear Zolf approaching, even with the twigs snapping under his feet. There are three bokoblins here as well, and Zolf readies himself before he bursts out from the foliage, swinging his hatchet wildly. It goes much the same; he catches this group unawares, felling one of the goblins before it can even snarl at him, and then he’s dodging, twisting around their attacks. One of the bokoblin’s swords catches his leg, cutting open a small nick, and Zolf gasps as pain, sharp as anything, lances up his skin. He doesn’t let it distract him, though, and catches the same bokoblin with his shield, bashing it in the chest as it falls, lifeless, to the ground. The last one stalks around him in a circle, snarling and growling, and then lunges. Zolf stumbles to the side and gets lucky as he throws the hatchet at it, sharp end burying itself into the bokoblin’s side as it squeals. Zolf stomps over and pulls it out, and the three goblins again turn to nothing but lumps of Malice. 

He cleans off the hatchet, stepping gingerly around the bodies, and turns in the direction of the final camp that he saw from the top of the tower. The last group. It’s a bit farther away, and Zolf is _already_ over this menial task that he’s doing just to get the paraglider, but there’s a slowly rising anxiety in his gut that is pushing him forward, pushing him to get off the plateau by any means necessary. He walks a bit quicker than he normally would; upon getting closer, he hides behind a metal crate, peeking around to see only two bokoblins here, now. It should be an easy match, as long as he keeps his head. 

Zolf pulls the hatchet off of his back and screams a battle cry to the sky, running into the thick of it as the bokoblins peek around and spot him, shouting in return. He gets one of them in the shoulder as they scream, and it slices through skin and bone, nearly severing the arm. The bokoblin collapses to the ground, slowly turning into a black mess of Malice. He jumps back as the second one swings at him, narrowly missing slicing open his chest. He parries a blow with his shield and knocks the sword out of the bokoblin’s hand, stumbling a bit as he steps awkwardly on his prosthetic. The bokoblin doesn’t waste any time as it grabs a spear sitting next to the fire and lunges toward him. 

He dodges out of the way and stumbles as memories assault his brain, as he remembers metal contraptions scrambling toward him, red targets painted across his body and hand gripping a sword tightly as he was ready to -

The spear connects, stabbing through Zolf’s chest, and pain shoots through his body as his vision goes black. 

He wakes up with a gasp, hands scrabbling at his chest, but all he finds is the untorn fabric of his tunic. He sits up, and his head _hurts_ when he looks around. The trees, the plants, the log… he _already_ walked through this. This - this isn’t _new._ He was just here, five minutes ago, and he can see the bokoblins who he was just fighting all laying against the cliff once more, unwounded. They haven’t noticed him yet, either, and Zolf stumbles over to lean against a tree, mind racing. He _knows_ he felt the spear connect, can still feel the phantom pain, but there’s no blood on him. He subconsciously presses his hand to his chest, and pulls his tunic up, glancing down. There’s a scar, there, and a new one, too, already faded to a single white point that marks his skin. 

He thinks about all the scars that mark his skin, and feels sick. His body is _covered_ in them, in twisting white, faint marks, some large, some small, and they all - if they all - Zolf covers his eyes with his hands and breathes, deeply, trying not to panic.

How on _earth_ did that - he drops his hands and stares up at the sky, willing the voice from nowhere to come once more and explain what happened.

"Am I imagining this?" he signs, but no wisdom comes, and Zolf grits his teeth, pulling his hatchet out once more as he stalks toward the bokoblins in the camp again. He eyes the spear uneasily, but this time, they all all go down easily. Zolf remembers fighting them, remembers the moves they favored, and isn’t caught off guard this time. He slays them all easily, and as he’s standing there, blood and gore all around him, a figure appears in the sky. Wilde.

He touches down gently and Zolf storms up to him the moment he lands, hands moving wildly.

"What the hell **was** that?" he asks, and Wilde gives him a confused look.

“What was _what?”_ Wilde asks back, and Zolf points out to the field, where a group of now-dead bokoblins lay. 

"I already did this,"Zolf signs, hands moving faster than they normally do. Wilde just looks like he doesn’t understand.

“... Thank you?” Wilde says, and Zolf rubs at the bridge of his nose. 

"That’s not what I -" He huffs. "I fought them, and then one of them stabbed me in the chest, and then I woke up under that tree and they were all **alive** again."

“I think you may be _confused,”_ Wilde says, hands up non-threateningly, but Zolf just stares daggers at him. 

"I know what I felt," Zolf signs, eyebrows pulling together as he glares. "This wasn’t my imagination." 

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Wilde says. “I’ve never heard of anything of the sort. Are you sure you don’t -“ he cuts himself off this time at Zolf’s dark look, and takes a step back. “Fine. But you’ll have to ask someone other than me about it. That isn’t one of the questions I can answer for you.”

"Fine," Zolf retorts. "Then can you answer this?"

Wilde shrugs. “I can try. But I make no promises.”

"How -" Zolf starts, before realising he doesn’t know how to finish it. "Why do I know how to fight like this? Why didn’t I die already? What - what was that _place_ I woke up in and why _me?_ Why is any of this even happening?"

Wilde rests a hand on Zolf’s shoulders. “Breathe, Zolf.” 

Zolf does, but then an icy cold realisation creeps along his skin. He steps back, and Wilde’s hand falls from his shoulders. "How do you know my name? I never told you."

Wilde sighs. “I suppose there’s… more to my story than I initially let on. All of this is - well, complicated. It’s not so easy to explain as you might think.”

"Then _tell_ me," Zolf says, eyes narrowed.

“Meet me at the temple,” Wilde says, and Zolf huffs out a frustrated breath. 

"I’ve already been running around doing your dirty work for you all day, can’t you just tell me now?" Zolf signs, and Wilde shakes his head.

“I promise, there’s a reason for this,” Wilde beseeches, tone not open for argument. Zolf rubs at the bridge of his nose with his hand, trying not to fly off the handle. He looks back up, but Wilde is gone again, and Zolf hisses, irritated. 

The temple isn’t too far from here, when he turns to look, and he can see Wilde silhouetted in the broken-down bell tower. Zolf flips him off from here, regardless of the fact that Wilde won’t be able to see him, and starts his trek toward the temple. 

There are less bokoblins on the way to this camp, he realises, although he’s not completely sure why. Still, he goes out of his way to avoid them; his chest twinges in the same spot where he got stabbed with a spear everytime he gets a bit too close to one of the camps. It’s a circuitous route, but eventually he makes it to the stone temple. There aren’t any stairs, or even a ladder, because of _course_ not, so Zolf grits his teeth, sticks his hatchet into the sheath on his back and starts to climb, cursing Wilde inside his head. 

The vines are short but sturdy as he hauls himself up, grunting with effort. He makes it up soon enough, even if his arms and legs ache upon making it into the bell tower. Spite is the only thing keeping him standing as he faces Wilde. 

"What do you want? I did what you asked. Give me the paraglider and tell me what the hell is going on."

“I will,” Wilde says. “But you had just woken up, and it wasn’t the time. Now, though… you’re more ready than you were.”

He takes his cloak off and it’s like _he_ changes as well. A scar stretches across his cheek, from the corner of his eye down to his jaw. His clothes disappear, changing from dark rags to a regal suit, with an emblematic seal that Zolf doesn't recognise holding a sash around his shoulders. 

"Who the hell are you?" Zolf demands, and then pulls the hatchet off of his back as he stares up at Wilde. 

“I didn’t lie to you,” Wilde says, and leans back against the crumbling pillar on the tower. “My name is Oscar Wilde. I was the first advisor to His Royal Majesty Saleh Amoun al-Tahan, and worked closely with the princes and princesses in the castle. You, Zolf, were the appointed knight to His Royal Highness Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan. Together, you and he worked to stop the blight of Mars from taking over the world.”

Zolf stares at him. His hands hover in the air as he tries to figure out what to say. "I - what?"

“You don’t remember. Something about the shrine must have taken your memories, but I assure you, this is all true.

“There’s a prophecy, one that’s been oft-repeated, about a prince who will banish the darkness and his knight who wields the sword to drive away the shadows. One hundred years ago, you and Hamid tried to stop Mars - also known by the name he used when he walked these lands. Ares.”

"What was Mars trying to… do? What do you mean he’s walked these lands?"

Wilde sighs. “Ares was simply a human, once. But he became subject to Malice, and the blight infected his body, pulling him into its control and using him as a vessel to infect the entire land. What you see before you, circling the castle, is what we refer to as Mars, and it’s what you will have to defeat if you have any hope of saving Hamid and Hyrule."

Zolf blinks. "How are you so sure it’s me? I don’t - I don’t have any magic power, I don’t have a _sword,_ I don’t even… have my memories. Why am I the person who has to save us all?"

“I’m sorry,” Wilde says, and Zolf takes a step back again. It doesn’t seem to be something he says often, and the sheer sorrow in his voice pulls at Zolf as well. “I wish I had more to offer you. You were selected by the fates 100 years ago when the sword was placed into your hands. After Mars rose, you fell, defending Hamid. I didn’t tell you this at the time, but where you woke up is known as the Shrine of Resurrection. It’s been so long that we didn’t know if you would ever return. I know you can’t remember this now, but this has always been your battle. Yours, Hamid’s… the four champions who we lost.”

"Wilde," Zolf signs, and his heart is racing. "What… happened 100 years ago?"

Wilde turns away from him, staring out over the land as he faces the castle, watching the shadows that twist and turn around its turrets.

“The king heard ancient legends about beasts who could be controlled. Large, mechanical things that held enough power to stop Mars in his tracks. He ordered them to be excavated, and we found four, and then we found four champions who could pilot them and be part of the vanguard to protect the land. In our search, we found the guardians, ancient protectors of Hyrule that we were able to activate using ancient technology from the Harlequins.” Wilde’s mouth twists on the last word. Zolf wants to ask, but he simply continues, as though nothing had happened at all. 

“...There were six of you, once,” Wilde says, and his smile is bitter and worn. “You, Hamid, and the four champions who had all come together to save the world from Mars’ blight.” 

Zolf takes a step back, covering his eyes with his hands. The - he can see them, or, well, not them, but shadows of _something._ Can hear the echo of a hearty laugh in his ears, see the shine of a dagger, feel a bow being pressed into his hands, and feel the heat of an explosion on the side of his face. He opens his eyes, breathing heavily, and looks up to see Wilde watching him with a sympathetic look on his face. 

"What happened to them?" he asks. Wilde’s expression told him all he needed to know, really, but he wanted to hear the man say it.

“We thought it would be enough. With the Divine Beasts excavated and piloted, with the Guardians on our side - we were certain of a victory. But then Mars _rose,_ and something… infected them. The beasts and Guardians were turned against us. The royal family and the advisors were killed - anyone still in the palace had no hope of surviving that monster. The land was ravaged, the Divine Beasts run rampant, and the guardians stalk across the land, looking for the next person to become their prey.

“Hamid has been the only protection the land has had for 100 years. Whatever he did, whatever power he called upon in those final moments… it keeps Mars trapped in the castle, unable to completely spread across the land. But that power seems to be waning.”

Hamid must be the one who’s been speaking to him. Zolf still can barely remember him, can barely picture what he looks like at all, but something about the voice makes him sure that he’s right. 

“You need to prepare before you can face Mars. This won’t be -“

"Why can’t I just go straight to the castle?" Zolf interrupts, clearly irritated, and Wilde gives him a understanding look but won’t budge. "If Hamid is really stuck in the castle, if he’s been holding Mars back all these years? I have to get to him!"

“You’ll _die,_ Zolf!” Wilde snaps, and Zolf shakes his head.

"I can’t leave him there!" Zolf signs, but Wilde just reaches out and grabs his shoulder. 

“Mars _knows_ you’re awake. He’s preparing his own army to fight you. You will _not_ survive if you go to fight him now - no, Zolf, _listen,”_ Wilde says, ignoring Zolf’s frantic attempts to break his grip so that he can sign again. “I’m not telling you to leave Hamid. But you need to be _ready._ You need to liberate the Divine Beasts that you, Hamid, and the other Champions worked so hard on. This battle is unwinnable if you don’t have them on your side.”

"How do I do that?" Zolf asks, setting his mouth in a firm line as he turns to look over the horizon. 

“Start in Kakariko Village. Curie, there, she - well, she’ll be able to… help you, more than I have,” Wilde says, corner of his mouth turning down in displeasure. He points off to the horizon, “We don’t get on. But she’ll be able to point you in the right direction.”

Zolf takes the paraglider as Wilde offers it, staring a bit in disbelief at what looks to be quite flimsy rope and fabric. Wilde catches his gaze, and shrugs.

“I know, it doesn’t look like much. But it will get you where you need to go. Trust me.”

"I do," Zolf signs, and Wilde nods shortly before stepping back and letting go of the paraglider. "Wilde… thank you. For… everything."

“No, Zolf,” Wilde says, shaking his head. “You’re the one I should be thanking. Now. Go. Save Hamid. Save Hyrule.” 

Zolf holds up the paraglider and turns to face the east, where Wilde instructed him to go. He’s sorely tempted to go straight toward the castle, to ignore Wilde’s directives and just go there so that he can save Hamid, but if what Wilde says is true, Zolf doesn’t have a chance in hell until he’s got a few more people on his side. 

“Good luck, Zolf,” Wilde calls from behind him, and he chances half a second to look back and give the man an appreciative nod before he leaps off the edge of the broken-down ruins of the temple and soars off into the slowly setting sun. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fucking hubris of me titling this google doc "zolf botw snippet" and writing at the top of the doc "not gonna write much in this au" shows me!!!
> 
> also! programming note! after getting feedback, I’m changing it so that the sign isn’t being written in italics. i’ve gone and changed the first chapter as well, but for all returning readers, going forward, Zolf signing will just be written as normal conversation- he is still mute and speaks exclusively in what i’m deciding to call HSL (hylian sign language). which: loz is a little weird because hyrule is the name of the entire region but also not everyone are considered hylians, because there are multiple different races in hyrule (hylians are the human-looking ones, and then you’ve got zora, goron, rito, gerudo… anyway). however. hyrulean SL sounds fucking stupid, so hylian SL it is. everyone is able to understand HSL, even if they can’t sign themselves. does that make sense?

The journey to Kakariko is longer than Zolf would like and twice as treacherous. Small dots of Guardians stalk all around the hillside, and it’s all he can do to keep out of their eyesight. There’s something about them, something he can’t remember, that makes his breath come faster and his heart pound anytime one comes into his line of sight, but Zolf is either stealthy enough or just plain lucky enough to avoid their gaze as he makes the trek through the land. 

There are few travelers that he runs into along the way, most of them going on foot, and they’re all cagey about where they’re going next, about where they came from. They talk to Zolf calmly enough, but there’s so much suspicion and tension in their eyes that he finds himself cutting the conversation short. A few of the travelers are merchants, and Zolf’s able to trade a few mushrooms he’d picked up for some arrows and meat. He’ll have to go hunting at some point, but that can be a problem for the future. He has to get to Kakariko as soon as he can. 

After a full day of traveling, the stable is a welcome sight. Purchasing a horse will mean he can travel much,  _ much  _ faster, and maybe he can stop putting so much weight on his prosthetic leg for so long. 

He goes right up to the window and is greeted by a kind-faced old man, shuffling a few papers around. The man smiles when he sees Zolf and sets the paper aside, sticking out a hand for Zolf to shake.

“Hello, sir!” the man says, and lets go of Zolf’s hand. “My name is Clapper, and what can I do for you this fine evening?”

“Are those horses for sale?” Zolf asks, pointing toward the stable, and the man at the desk nods happily. 

“Of course, sir!” he says, and pulls out a binder. “Some of the horses are a bit older and lame, but let me know what you’re looking for and we’ll find the best horse for you.”

“That would be great,” Zolf signs, feeling a bit wrong footed by how.  _ Helpful  _ the man is. Everyone else he’s run into on the journey has been, well. Guarded. “I need a horse that moves quickly, and I don’t have much in the way of packs. Got anything like that around?”

“Let me see, let me see…” Clapper mutters, flipping through the binder and running through a list of names. “How far are you planning to go?”

“Far.” Zolf doesn’t add anything; the man doesn’t need to know specifics, but Zolf needs a horse that will be able to travel around Hyrule and to the outer reaches of the land. 

Clapper hums, finger tapping on the binder. “I think I’ve got the perfect one for you, sir. Name’s Figgis. He’s a Thoroughbred, good at going long distances, but he’s going to need a steady hand to manage him, as he’s a bit spirited. If you’re up for that, though, I’m sure we can part with him.”

“Which one is he?” Zolf asks, and Clapper turns toward the stable, craning his head.

“He’s the bay, standing at the front. The one with the small white stripe down the front of his head, see him?”

Zolf does. He looks like a fine horse, but Zolf really doesn’t have the credentials or the experience (or the  _ memory _ ) to really pick out anything about him. He’s not too thin, which is good, and looks strong, so Zolf’s willing to believe Clapper and get himself a better, faster mode of transport. 

He’s lucky he’d found a sack of gold in Wilde's hut and pocketed it, and doubly lucky to have stumbled over some chests filled with gold and silver on the way over. “How much is he?”

“Let’s call it 40 gold pieces?” the man says, shrugging. “Don’t get many people buying horses, if I’m honest. There are enough wild ones out there that you can tame, with some time and attention.”

“Don’t have much of either of those,” Zolf signs, and Clapper chuckles. 

“Guess most of us don’t, when you come to think of it. Traveling is less about the journey, ever since Mars took over. My parents used to tell stories about how busy the roads used to be, but ever since Castle Town was destroyed… all the communities keep to themselves. It’s just safer that way.” Clapper trails off, then hits the counter with his hand as he points at Zolf. “But that’s enough of a history lesson for now! Where are you heading, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Zolf hesitates for a moment, but doesn’t think that this guy has ulterior motives, so he decides to answer. “Kakariko Village,” he signs, and then gestures toward the east. “You wouldn’t happen to know how far it is, would you?”

The man considers for a moment. “It’s been a while since me or any of my family traveled these parts. I’m a bit too old for adventures, and the monsters roaming the paths, it’s more than a little dangerous. If I had to guess… maybe three-quarters of a day, if you don’t take many breaks. Lad like you, on a horse as quick as Figgis, especially not carrying much? Could make it in that time easily.”

“Helpful,” Zolf signs, and the man inclines his head. “Appreciate it.”

“Only doing what I can to help, sir,” Clapper says, just as cheery as he has been. “But if I may… make a suggestion?” Zolf gestures for him to go ahead, only just resisting the urge to step away, go get his new horse, and ride off into the evening. “It’s getting dark, and with monsters about… well, journeying really isn’t the safest. We have beds here as well, and you’re welcome to use the cooking pot outside if you have the wares. I’ll even do you a discount on a night, since you’re buying one of our horses as well.”

Zolf chews on the inside of his cheek; traveling at night doesn’t seem to be the best option, especially when he’s just starting out with a horse and when he doesn’t  _ actually  _ know the lay of the land and what’s safe and what’s not. Hamid’s waiting for him, but if Zolf gets himself  _ killed  _ on the way, then he’ll have failed him. Again. 

“Cheers,” Zolf signs, and the silence has definitely lasted too long but Clapper doesn’t say anything, just nods enthusiastically. “I’ll take you up on that, then. Get an early start.”

“Of course. Only five silvers.”

Zolf pays him and salutes, heading inside the stable and shrugs his pack up higher on his shoulder. There are only a few people inside - one small family and two other travelers who seem to be going on their own. There’s a merchant sitting in the corner, idly pawing through his bag and, Zolf assumes, checking his wares. None of them look like the untrustworthy sort, but Zolf still resolves to sleep with his bag in his arms that night. He barely has anything to begin with; thankfully, the mobile stone is unobtrusive and mostly covered by his shirt, so he doesn’t need to worry about hiding that as well. 

He sits down, both of his legs aching. His prosthetic is  _ viscerally  _ uncomfortable, and he pulls it off with a bitten-back groan. It takes some of the pressure off his leg, and he leans it beside the bed as he begins to massage his limb. The blood starts pumping again, and the pain decreases to a much more manageable level as he continues his ministrations. 

This was a tremendous distance to go in a single day, and he knows that his body won’t be thanking him for it tomorrow. At least he’ll have Figgis for the rest of the trip; he’ll be sore from riding until his body acclimates to it. Hopefully, someplace in Kakariko Village will have a poultice he can use to handle the pain.

In the corner, a small boy rests against one of his parents, who’s slowly stroking his hair while their spouse slowly bandages his leg. One of the travelers looks a mess, hair covering a scar over his eye that only appears when he turns to look through his pack. The other traveler seems exhausted, already fast asleep; their pack is full to the brim with mushrooms and knives, and Zolf can’t help the small pang in his chest when he sees all the knives there. He just wishes he knew  _ why.  _

No one is speaking; everyone’s just keeping to themselves, barely making eye contact across the room. There’s a tension in the air that’s tangible, that settles across Zolf’s shoulders. Outside, around the fire, he can hear a few people chatting and sharing stories - they seem in a marginally better mood, but all their stories are about chasing monsters and what locations you should avoid while traveling. 

He hadn’t realised how…  _ bad _ everything seemed. Wilde had hinted, had explained how Mars had ravaged the land after he and - he and  _ Hamid  _ had failed. After  _ he  _ had fallen. 

A small coil of guilt builds in his gut; this is his fault, even if he can’t quite remember why or how. Hamid’s been left the sole defender of the land; a job that, if Wilde’s to be believed, was meant to be shared by Zolf, and the champions. He’s been battling Mars all by himself for 100 years, just  _ waiting  _ in the vague hope that Zolf would wake up, and now that he’s awake, he doesn’t have the right to take any longer.  _ Hamid _ needs him. 

Zolf sets his jaw and rolls over, clutching his rucksack tight to his chest as he closes his eyes. 

It’s a while before he finally falls asleep.

—

He leaves the stable early in the morning and, still feeling a bit guilty, drops a few more pieces of silver behind the counter for the man to find when he gets up in the morning. One of the dogs whines when it sees him leaving, and Zolf bends over to pet him, scratching behind his ear and giving a little hum. The dog enjoys it, tongue lolling out of his mouth, but Zolf needs to be off. If he leaves now, he should be able to make it there before dark, and then all things working out, he can rest up there before heading to his next stop tomorrow morning.

The fact that he’s on limited time hasn’t left his brain for a single moment since he started all this. He can’t leave Hamid there alone. He won’t go to the castle yet, if only because he isn’t, actually, reckless, and because something about this… feels final. Like if he goes there and dies again… that’s it. No more second chances. If he’s going to be doing this, he’ll do it right. Even if it means Hamid has to hold out a little bit longer. Even if it hurts Zolf to force him to do that.

But. There’s really not another option. He just - he just has to do what he can, has to move as quickly as possible and finish things up with a neat little bow to make sure that things don’t fall apart at the crucial moment. 

He rides hard all day; Figgis is an absolute workhorse, but Zolf still forces him to stop for water as often as he can allow. The sun slowly passes by overhead, and Zolf wipes beads of sweat off his forehead as Figgis runs through the sand. He stays to the shade where he can, but so much of the path is through open plains that it’s not as easy as he thought it would be. They make good time, though, even with the few detours they have to take. 

On the way, he runs into a couple who are fighting off some bokoblins, and swings off of Figgis to help. He makes short work of them, and the couple, grateful, press some wrapped rice balls into his hand. Zolf makes sure to watch them leave, and when no other monsters appear, hops back on to Figgis and heads off again. 

They make it to Kakariko just as dusk is coming. The old man’s prediction had been a bit overeager, but Zolf’s just happy to have actually made it here before dark. 

Zolf slips off of Figgis once they make their way to the edge of the village, taking his reins in hand as he leads him through the village. Figgis trots behind him, barely even tugging now, although he does stop to nibble at some apples until Zolf pulls him away.

There’s a large house on the edge of the village, sitting raised on stilts with stairs leading up to it, and it looks more like an elder’s house than anything else here. Curie  _ has  _ to be there. Zolf starts to head toward it and then ties Figgis off to a nearby post, patting him on the side and pulling some water and feed over to him.

Two people who must be the town’s guards rock up, swords on their belts as they both block off the path in front of Zolf. They don’t seem aggressive, not yet, but there’s a clear tension running through their shoulders as they give him a quick once-over. 

“What brings you to town?” one of them asks, too casual to actually be so, and Zolf shrugs, stepping a bit away from Figgis just in case. 

“Looking for someone, actually. Where can I speak to Madame Curie?” Zolf asks, deciding on using the honorific at the last second, before he can second-guess himself. 

The two guards look at each other, and one’s hand tightens on their sword. “Why do you want to speak to her?” 

“I was told she had answers,” Zolf replies, but neither of them budge, and only seem to look more suspicious. “About 100 years ago?”

This gets them, but not in the way Zolf wanted it to. Both of their swords come out of their scabbard, pointing at Zolf, and he holds a hand up as Figgis snorts, hooves scraping against the ground. 

“I’m not - I don’t want to fight,” Zolf signs, but they take a step closer, forcing him to take a step back to avoid the points of the swords being pressed into his chest. 

“Anyone could tell you about the calamity. What’s the real reason you want to speak to her?” One asks, a challenge in their voice, and Zolf looks from one to the other as he takes another step back.

“I’m - that’s  _ it,  _ m’not - not  _ lying  _ or anything, I’m here to ask her what she knows about it,” he signs, but they don’t seem to believe him for a second, still advancing on him. 

“Wilde sent me!” he signs in desperation as they advance, a last-ditch effort to try and convince them that he’s telling the truth, and they stop in their tracks. Their weapons don’t lower, though, and the suspicion only increases. 

“Wilde died 100 years ago,” one of them snarls, and Zolf backs up against the wall, heart pounding. “When Mars took the castle, he perished along with the rest of the royal family. How did  _ he  _ tell you to come here?”

Zolf doesn’t know how to explain that a ghost spoke to him, and he doesn’t think these two will even believe him if he tries. He swallows, trying to figure out  _ some  _ explanation that doesn’t make it sound like he’s hallucinating spirits from 100 years ago, but he’s saved as a door opens to his left. 

“What the  _ hell  _ are you two fools  _ doing?”  _ Zolf hears, and turns his head desperately as he spots a smallish woman coming down the stairs, arms folded as she gives the guards a glare. She seems middle-aged, hair a curly mop around her head, and even though she’s small, barely as tall as Zolf’s shoulder at a glance, she carries herself with such confidence that even Zolf feels intimidated. 

“He’s asking for Curie,” one of the guards explains, and Zolf does his level best to transmit a silent ‘ _ help me’  _ to the stranger. She scoffs, but turns to face him, eyebrow raised. The second she spots him her expression changes, jaw dropping and recognition flaring in her eyes. 

“Zolf?” she breathes, and after a moment of confusion, the guards' weapons clatter to the ground. Not a second later, they sink to their knees as well, clearly familiar enough with his name.

“Champion!” one of them greets, sounding abashed as they both bow their heads, hands resting on the ground. “Please forgive us - we hadn’t realised who we were speaking with. It’s been so  _ long,  _ you see.”

“No, don’t - stand up, please,” Zolf asks, but they aren’t  _ looking  _ at him, and he can feel his hands beginning to shake as they still  _ bow  _ to him, as though he’s an  _ idol,  _ as though he has any right to their fealty. 

“Hey!” the stranger calls, and the guards' heads snap up. “Look at him when he’s speaking. He asked you to stand up.”

The guards do so immediately, looking incredibly sheepish. One steps forward and bows his head, hand clasped over his chest. “I’m very sorry, Champion. We - we had heard  _ rumors,  _ of course, but - it is good to see you once more.”

“Don’t… call me that,” Zolf signs. The title isn’t something he ever earned, nothing he ever wanted to carry, and it feels even  _ less _ like something he deserves. “My name is Zolf.”

The guards both look at each other again, but don’t say anything further, and from behind him, the stranger sighs. 

“I’ll take it from here,” she says. “Go help out with the harvest, we need more hands there anyway.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guards chorus, and with another slight bow to Zolf, dash off, shoulders hunched in shame and embarrassment. 

“Thanks for the save,” Zolf signs, and Amelia waves away his thanks.

“They’re both young. A bit too full in the chest with protecting the village. Can’t really blame them for it, not when the rest of the world is the way it is.”

“...Suppose not,” Zolf replies, frowning. “I’d introduce myself, but it seems you already know me. Sorry for not returning the favor?”

“Amelia,” she says, and sticks a hand out. “And, no. You wouldn’t. Sorry for the, er - overfamiliarity, I guess. You’re pretty easy to recognise, is all, especially when Curie had told me to keep an eye out for you.”

“How did she know?” Zolf asks, eyebrows pulling together. This doesn’t much seem like a world where news travels fast, not if the situation of the stables and the ghost towns he passed through are to be believed. 

Amelia shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “I stopped asking that myself a long time ago. She just  _ does,  _ sometimes.”

“Er. Right.”

“Right. Follow me,” Amelia orders, and doesn’t wait for Zolf to respond before turning on her heel and heading up the path. He scrambles after her, wincing a bit as the speed puts an undue amount of pressure on his prosthetic, and then turns and motions for Figgis to stay where he is. The horse looks happy enough to obey, munching on the feed, and Zolf follows Amelia as she leads him through the village, heading directly toward the large house he’d thought was where Curie had to be. 

He can hear the whispers as they walk through the village, people pointing to him and immediately turning to talk to their neighbors, muttering about how the Champion’s returned, and Zolf wishes he had a hood that he could hide in. He doesn’t like the attention, doesn’t even  _ slightly  _ want it, but it feels inescapable. Amelia doesn’t seem to notice - or, if she does, she doesn’t react, so it’s just Zolf feeling uncomfortable until they finally leave most of the villagers behind. 

He still can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched, though.

They head up the stairs of the house; there are two more guards in front that look at him suspiciously, and Zolf realises that he almost prefers that to the near-fawning gazes he was getting earlier. Amelia doesn’t pay them any attention other than a quick nod at them both, and then she knocks. There’s a soft and quiet  _ ‘come in’ _ from the other side of the door; not a voice Zolf recognises, although at this point, that’s to be expected. She pushes the door open and leads the way inside, leaning back against the wall as she motions for Zolf to step further in.

In the center of the room is an elderly woman, wizened with age, and she looks up from the sofa she’s sat on as they both enter. Her eyes crinkle with recognition as she spots Zolf, and she rises fluidly from the sofa, looking more graceful than Zolf would have thought.

“You finally woke up, hmm?” she greets, and steps forward to take Zolf’s hands in her own. “Welcome  _ back,  _ Zolf.”

She’s got his hands trapped in hers, so he can’t really say anything back. Her head tilts as she looks up at him - gods, she’s so  _ tiny -  _ and something passes through her eyes before she takes a step back, letting his hands go free. 

“I know I’m  _ old,  _ now, but surely you haven’t forgotten me that easily?” Curie asks, and Zolf stiffens. 

“I lost my memories,” Zolf explains, his hands hesitating a bit on the final word. He still doesn’t like to think about it, much, and the guilt he feels when someone recognises him but he just has…  _ nothing  _ to go on hasn’t gotten any easier. 

Curie frowns at that, and looks slightly abashed. “My apologies,” she says, inclining her head. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

Zolf waves away her apology. It’s his shit to bear, and he’ll get over it eventually. Maybe. 

“Wilde told me you had information for me,” he signs, skipping past the pleasantries, and Curie looks half-shocked for a moment before she composes herself.

“I’m surprised Wilde was able to speak with you,” she says, sounding surprised even as she tries to hide it. “As far as we knew, he was killed in the initial attack.”

“He was,” Zol confirms. “This was his… ghost. Spirit? Essence? I’m not - I don’t know.”

Curie tilts her head to the side as she considers him; there’s a slightly calculating look in her eyes, and she picks up a notebook laying on one of the sofa cushions. She makes a note, just something small, and then puts it back down. Zolf waits there, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, nervous and impatient at the same time. 

“What would you like to know?” she asks, and Zolf shrugs.

“I mean, everything? I don’t - what happened 100 years ago? Why  _ me?  _ Why can’t I remember anything, and how do I save Hamid?” His hands move a bit more frantically, a bit more desperately on that last question, and his face screws up as his hands slice through the air before they fall back to his sides.

Curie hums as she settles herself back onto the sofa, hands resting delicately in her lap. “From the beginning, then,” she says, and she may be frail but there’s  _ steel  _ in her voice. She gestures at the chair opposite her and Zolf sits, imitating her pose. “That wasn’t the first time you’ve fought him. Mars, that is.” 

“What do you mean?” Zolf asks, and Curie sighs.

“Throughout the ages, there are stories upon stories of a prince and his knight battling against the world’s worst evil. Across centuries, the same three characters appear - Mars, a primordial evil whose goal is to ravage the entire land of Hyrule, and a prince and a knight, each chosen by the gods at the beginning of time to be the protectors of the land.” Curie points. “Hamid is the prince, and you’re his appointed knight, Zolf.”

Zolf feels his jaw drop, but recovers quickly enough. “What do you mean? How is that… possible?”

“The will of the gods is not for us to know,” Curie says, although she doesn’t look happy about it. “As Harlequins, we’ve been trying to puzzle out the legends, to separate fact from fiction and figure out why Mars continues to rise, even after he is defeated time and time again. We’ve made some progress, but there’s not enough answers for us to explain how we can seal Mars away forever.”

“That still doesn’t explain how I could be part of this. I mean? I’m just...  _ me,  _ I don’t remember anything, I don’t - I’m not special. I’m not a  _ hero.” _

“I know a number of people who would argue with that. And as far as we’re aware… you carry the soul of a hero,” Curie explains. “The tattoo, on your hand? The triangle? It’s a symbol of your power. That the reincarnated soul of the hero of legend lives in your veins.”

Zolf stares down at his hands; the tattoo is faint, but there, looking more like a scar as it’s slightly raised against his skin. The more he looks at it, the more it feels like there’s a humming in his chest, something he can’t identify. Maybe… maybe Curie’s right about this. Not like Zolf really wants to think about it that hard. 

“And Hamid?”

Curie sighs. “The Royal Family of Hyrule are descended from the gods. Certain generations will have the same tattoo on their skin, the one that you two share. They have a power to seal away darkness. The skill is passed down through the family line, but something was… different, this time. Hamid… he struggled to access the magic, more so than any of his ancestors had. I don’t know enough of the details, if I’m honest. You and the Champions were probably the only people he shared the knowledge with, outside of his family.”

That… doesn’t answer half the questions that Zolf has. “What happened 100 years ago?” he asks instead, because this is  _ maybe _ something he can get more information on. “Wilde has told me some of it, but. What happened to  _ me?  _ What happened to Hamid?”

Curie shakes her head. “There was no one else there in your final moments, Zolf. The most I understand is that you took a fatal blow meant for the prince, and he somehow  _ accessed  _ his magic, confining Mars to the castle. He summoned the Harlequins, who were told to spirit you to the Shrine of Resurrection.”

Great. More answers Zolf wants but won’t get. Gods. If there was no one else who was there, how does he have any hope of remembering who he is or what happened? 

“I have this. Could it help? Give you… answers, or whatever,” he signs, and pulls out the runed stone that he’d found in the cave. 

“May I see?” Curie asks, holding her hand out. Zolf hesitates for a moment, but doesn’t see the harm, and drops it into her hand. “This was the prince’s,” she says, hands moving reverently over the stone in her palms, and it activates at her touch as well, slowly glowing as it turns on and the map forms.

“Hamid’s?” Zolf signs, confused; Hamid had definitely  _ not  _ mentioned that part. Curie glances up to catch it before going back to staring at the rock, and nods quietly.

“I have no idea how you could have gotten it,” Curie says. “The guards who took you to the shrine never said anything about having it with them.”

“I… found it there,” Zolf signs. “I heard him speaking to me. He said the stone was mine.”

“You heard the prince?” Curie gasps, and picks up her notebook again. “What did he say?”

“He…” Zolf trails off, wondering how much he should share. “Er, it’s kind of fuzzy, but. He told me that I needed to wake up. That he was running out of time and he needed help.”

It’s not all a lie, but it’s still not everything. Curie is shrewd, though, and looks at him with narrowed eyes. She doesn’t say anything, though, so Zolf breathes a silent sigh of relief. 

“I suppose that’s not much more than we were hoping for,” she says, although she still sounds disappointed. “The fact that Hamid has continued to fight for 100 years is impressive enough on its own, him reaching out to guide you just shows how truly powerful he is.” 

Zolf feels a pang in his chest, the same that comes up anytime he remembers the desperation and exhaustion in Hamid’s voice. It clings to him, drives him forward, and he still feels so  _ guilty  _ for not being strong enough, in the end. For leaving Hamid there to fight alone for so long. His hand tightens, curling into a fist.

He won’t leave him there for much longer. 

“I have to give you something else, Zolf. This was… yours,” Curie says, and hands a ring over to Zolf. He takes it and glances down at it, willing any sort of familiarity to spark his memory. It has a heart, a club, a diamond, and a spade on it, with the spade a bright ruby red that stands out among the black of the others. Nothing comes to mind, and Zolf huffs out a frustrated breath. 

“Thank you,” he replies, doing his best to show that the frustration isn’t directed at her, and Curie inclines her head. “I wish I could remember… more.”

Curie nods. “Hamid warned us that this may be the case. I suppose… memories are a willing price to pay for another chance to save the world.”

Zolf’s fingers tighten as he curls his hands into a fist. “Easy enough for you to say,” he signs, trying to make it come off as lighter than he feels. “You aren’t the one who’s lost them.”

He doesn’t think he succeeds, when Curie turns and gives him a pitying look. “I suppose that’s true,” she says, but still doesn’t take the words back. Something lights up in her eyes, and she holds her hand out. “May I see the stone again, if you don’t mind?”

Zolf doesn't want to hand it over, not really, but he doesn’t really think he has a choice. Reluctantly, he drops the stone into her hand, and Curie taps once on its surface, swiping the screen that appears to the left. A new screen appears, loading slowly, and images begin to form in the space between them. A smile flits across her face for a moment, a mix of nostalgia and regret, and then Zolf leans around the images.

“What’s this, then?” he asks, and Curie lets the images fade around her.

“That sentimental boy,” she mutters, shaking her head fondly. She turns toward Zolf and hands him the stone back. “I told you this was Hamid’s stone. There’s a way to store images, although I haven’t really been able to figure out how the magic works. He was strangely good at it. Intuitive.”

“So, what does that mean?”

Curie sighs. “I need you to understand that this isn’t a guarantee. But… it’s possible, you know, that these images - these  _ places  _ \- could kickstart your memory. You and Hamid were inseparable, even if he resented it at the beginning. It’s not hard to think that you would have accompanied him to these places as well. If you visit… it might trigger some of your memories, as well.”

Zolf takes a step back, shocked. “I could get my memories back?”

“It’s  _ not  _ certain,” Curie cautions. “Zolf, I have to make this clear. It could mean nothing, in the end. But there’s a  _ reason  _ Hamid chose to save these images. They must be meaningful in  _ some  _ way.”

He - he can maybe get his memories back. Not all of them, and maybe not at all, but there’s a chance, however slim, that he can remember  _ something  _ about his life, before all this. A chance that he won’t feel like he’s just stumbling around in the dark, with no hope of ever really  _ knowing  _ what happened to him. Maybe he can  _ stop  _ feeling like an imposter, can stop feeling like this skin is wrong for him, as though he’s wearing someone else’s face but still carrying all their guilt. Gods, he just wants to  _ remember.  _ Even the bad things, even the failure, just so he  _ knows. _

“I need you to promise me something,” Curie says, and her face looks even more grave, even more serious, than it ever has. “When you’ve visited all the locations… return to me. There’s something I will need to show you.”

Zolf hesitates for a moment, but Curie looks up at him, away from the photo on the wall of guardians surrounding a broken-down fort, and there’s so much sorrow in her gaze that Zolf doesn’t think he _can_ deny her this. “I promise,” he signs, and swallows heavily. “What… is it?”

“Visit the other locations first,” she says, carefully avoiding answering. “It will be clear, then.”

That’s…. okay. Not ominous at all, really, but Zolf really doesn’t have an argument to make. Plus, he’s bone tired, and has the feeling that arguing the point won’t actually  _ change  _ anything. 

“What should I do now, then?” Zolf asks, ignoring the demons in his mind for the time being. He half-turns his head to look through the window. He knows the bare bones of what he has to do - somehow manage to rescue the… divine beasts, Wilde called them, and then breach the castle to kill Mars. But beyond that… he has no idea where to start. 

“Go to Zora’s domain first,” Curie instructs, pulling a map out and laying it on the table. She marks down an area to the east, and then another to the south of it. “And then you’ll want to travel to Hateno Village. One of our best is out there, working on studying the stone and figuring out new properties for it. She can help you harness its power. And she  _ might  _ be able to offer some insight into the still images. She… would be more familiar with them than most.”

“Wait,  _ familiar? _ ” Zolf asks, blinking. “What do you mean?”

Curie sighs. “Please believe me when I say that I don’t intend to hide things from you. But I’m afraid that I cannot share this person’s identity. You’ll just have to trust me and go meet her.”

Zolf doesn’t really like the sound of that, but he supposes he doesn’t really have a choice. “Fine,” he signs, hands moving sharply, and he knows Curie picks up on the tone by the way her mouth tightens into a stern, thin line. 

“Amelia will lead you to your room for the night. I expect you to see me before you leave tomorrow morning,” Curie says, and it’s not so much a request as it is an order. Zolf doesn’t respond; he doesn’t think he needs one. 

Someone pulls at his arm and he turns to see Amelia, who motions for them to head out. 

“Come with me,” she says, and bows to Curie before heading out. Zolf follows her lead, inclining his head for a brief moment right before thanking her, and then heads out the door after Amelia. 

For someone small, she walks  _ devilishly  _ fast, and Zolf finds himself having to pick up the pace as they go. Thankfully, with the sun having set, there are much less people around, and he doesn’t have to continue trying to hide his face as villagers point and whisper. They move through the village and Zolf takes the chance to look around more, now. It looks old, all buildings with thatched roofs and small windows that rise up on stilts. Crops litter the spaces between the houses, and mountains rise up around the village. settling them nicely into a valley. 

“You’ll be staying at mine,” Amelia tells him, and opens the door to her place. “My younger sister moved in with her husband a few years back, but we’ve kept her room up for guests.”

“This’ll be perfect,” Zolf says. “Honestly, I’m just happy to have a roof over my head.” 

Amelia snorts. “It’s the most all of us can hope for, really.”

She leads him up the stairs and pushes open a door, gesturing for Zolf to go inside. The room is nice, if small, but Zolf doesn’t need anything lavish. There’s a four-poster tucked into the corner with a pile of blankets on the edge, and a tiny washroom attached on the opposite side. 

“Spare nightclothes are in the chest,” Amelia explains, lingering in the doorway while Zolf goes to sit on the bed. “They’re all clean, so don’t worry about that. If you were staying here longer, we’d offer to wash your own, but they wouldn’t dry in time for you to leave.”

“No need, I can get some of the dirt off myself. I’m fine.”

Amelia doesn’t quite look like she believes him, but her attention is severed when she snaps her fingers as if she’s forgotten something. She disappears without saying anything, and Zolf freezes, a bit, looking left and right while he hears her digging around downstairs. She comes back before long, looking a bit disheveled, and holding something. 

“Here,” she says, handing Zolf a small parcel. “You don’t have to put it on, obviously, but Curie thought it might help. It’s - it’s one of the Harlequin guard outfits. Makes it a bit easier to creep around undetected. She wanted you to have it, just in case.”

Zolf takes the parcel, thanking Amelia quickly, and sets it down on the bed. “Anything else?”

She shakes her head. “One of the villagers put Figgis in the stable and gave him a blanket. It can get cold here at night, but he’ll be fed and well-rested so that you can get going tomorrow morning. If you need anything, let me know, okay?” 

“I’m good, I think. But. Thanks for this,” Zolf signs. 

“It’s nothing. Really. Night, Zolf,” Amelia says, and knocks on the edge of his door before heading off down the hallway. Zolf waits for her to blow out the candles along the way and for the door to her room to shut before he goes over and shuts his own, resting his forehead against the wood.

Thoughts swirl around his mind. He had thought he would know... more, somehow. Wilde had made it seem as though Curie would have all the answers, but Zolf’s just left with more questions. And his  _ memories... _

Later. He’ll deal with that  _ later. _

He pulls open the parcel and takes the clothes out, laying them down on the bed. It’s a three-piece outfit, a mix of gray and white and looking sleek as anything; there are a pair of shapely trousers and a long sleeved shirt that ends in gloves, with bandages to wrap around the forearms. The neck of the shirt has extra fabric, a deep red color, and Zolf realises that it would get pulled up over your face. There’s a scarf as well, the same light color as the rest of the outfit, and when he picks it up, the fabric is silky smooth. 

Everything looks to be his size as well, which he’s slightly surprised by, but decides not to question it. He can wear this tomorrow instead of the ratty shirt and trousers he’s had; the bonus is that these clothes won’t have dust and sweat and some dried specks of blood on them. 

He lets himself have a quick wash-up - the water in the washroom is freezing cold and coarse, but it gets the job done, and Zolf finally feels like the dirt and dust caked around his body have gone. He feels clean, for the first time in a bit, and he towels off his hair and lets his beard dry instead of trying to braid it. Flopping onto the bed, he rubs at his eyes, and then leans over to blow the candles out, determined to get an early start as he lets his eyes slip closed. 

Zolf wakes up the next morning with the sun shining in through the windows; it’s only just dawn, so he’ll still have the entire day to travel. It should only be a few days to the Zora domain, depending on how fast Figgis can go and for how long without being overworked.

He gets up and pulls on the clothes that Amelia had given him, and then braids his beard tightly, leaving the extra fabric where it is for now. The two hair sticks lay on the bed, so he pulls his hair up into a careful bun and then pushes them through, ensuring that it’s secure and tight, but not so tight he’ll get a headache. It seems to work, and he moves his head a bit to make sure they won’t fall while he’s riding. 

His old clothes go into the pack - he can figure out what to do with them later - and then pulls the strip of cloth up over his mouth. The beard gets in the way a bit, but eventually he manages to tuck it correctly and get the fabric set in place. 

Amelia isn’t in the house, so he slings his pack over his shoulder and lets himself out, trudging over to Curie’s house. The guards are still suspicious of him as he walks by, so he salutes as sarcastically as he’s able. They don’t stop him, so he knocks on the door and then enters, not waiting for Curie to tell him to come in. 

It’s not like it mattered - she’s sitting on the couch the same way as yesterday, and Zolf wonders for a minute if she just  _ sleeps  _ there or something.

“You took the clothes,” Curie says, rising from the couch. It’s almost a question at the end there, so Zolf nods.

“Figured I’ll take all the help I can get,” he signs, and adjusts the strip of cloth that covers his mouth. It’s a bit awkward, with the beard, but he’s managed to make it work. And it’s nice, actually; it helps keep his neck warm, which will be good when he gets more into the mountains. 

“Remember your promise,” Curie says, a look that Zolf can’t quite identify flashing in her eyes, and he nods. 

“I’ll come back.”

“Good luck, Zolf,” she says, and then in what feels like a moment of uncharacteristic emotion, pulls him in for a tight hug. She’s gone before Zolf processes this enough to hug her back, but that’s fine. He lets her retreat; her legs shake as she sits down on the small sofa and looks up at him. 

“Amelia will escort you to the edge of town. I would offer some of our villagers to act as soldiers for you, but -“

“I wouldn’t accept them,” he signs, frowning, and Curie inclines her head. 

“I know. Be that as it may, rest assured in knowing that the Harlequins are here to support you.” Zolf thanks her; having more people would only slow him down, honestly, but he does appreciate the offer. “Goodbye, Zolf. I have a feeling we’ll see you here again soon,” she says, and Zolf does a half bow before leaving.

Amelia leads him back to the stable, and he grabs Figgis. It’s still early, early enough that the mist still lays over the village, dew drops resting on everything in sight. It’s beautiful, honestly, but Zolf can’t pay attention to it for long. He’s on a mission.

“Thank you,” he signs to the stablehand, who looks as though she’s been unceremoniously woken up. She yawns but nods, and waves him on as he leads Figgis out of the stable. The edge of the town isn’t far from the stables, and Zolf tightens the saddle a bit, moving to the other side so that he’s not using his prosthetic leg to get up. 

“Here,” Amelia says before he can get up, and hands him a pack. “Rations for the journey. Everyone in town wanted to send you off with something, so Madame Curie got this together for you. It’s not much - Mars destroyed a lot of our fields - but it’s something.”

Zolf shakes his head and attempts to push the pack back into her arms. She doesn’t take it, so he sighs and carefully rests it on the ground. 

“I can’t take this,” he signs, eyebrows pulling together. He hasn’t  _ done  _ anything, he doesn’t deserve their help or their gifts, and he’s already wearing one of their outfits, it’s just. Not his to take.

“Too bad,” Amelia says, blunt as anything. “Harlequins help Harlequins, Zolf. I know you… weren’t one, but your family has ties to us. And you bear our ring, now. Let us help.”

Zolf rubs at his temples, but Amelia has a stubborn look on her face and he knows that this is one argument he won’t win. He wonders if she takes cues from Curie or if she’s just like this herself. 

“Fine,” he signs, but he’s frowning as he does so. “Thank you.” He ties it off to the back of the saddle, and Amelia smiles, satisfied. 

Zolf rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he hops onto Figgis’ back and waves to Amelia, before clicking his tongue and setting off.

To the Zora. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prox if you ever read this no i don’t know anything about horses i did my best
> 
> also i started playing botw again and i am just eternal weeping over link.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this is 10k it’s a lot

Zolf rides hard to the west the second he leaves Kakariko. He’ll have to bend around the marshlands and then curve around the edge of the fields of Hyrule before cutting across the wetlands, shallow enough for a horse to pass through uninterrupted. It’ll take a few days at best; he doesn’t want to overwork Figgis, especially since they have such a long way to go, still, but there’s still a sense of urgency hanging over his head, and every second he spends  _ not  _ moving toward Zora’s Domain is one he spends wracked with guilt. The castle is an ever-present reminder in the back of his head, dark shadows dancing around the turrets anytime he looks back at it. He can only see the top of it, from here, but he still feels drawn toward it, as though he can feel Hamid reaching out to him. 

He grits his teeth and rides on. 

Night falls sooner than he would like; he’d only stopped for food once that day, nothing more than some fruit and bread, and then took some of his frustration out on some nearby bokoblins that were setting traps for unsuspecting travelers. The woods become treacherous at night, even more so than during the day, so Zolf decides to stop. To his disappointment, there aren’t any stables nearby, so he won’t have a warm bed. Instead, he holes up in an abandoned shack he finds, tying Figgis up outside in a copse of trees that will hide him from any monsters that might be passing by. There’s a water pail and some food nearby, probably left for any passing traveler, so Zolf sets it down in front of Figgis, patting him on the flank as he heads into the shack. 

There’s rot in the ceiling, eating away at the wood until Zolf can easily look up and see the night sky; he’s just glad it isn’t raining. He spends some time chopping wood outside, glad more than ever that he decided to carry a hatchet with him, and sets aside a few sticks to keep in his bag for the future. The rest, mostly large logs, he carries inside and stokes a small fire under a cooking pot in the corner. He doesn’t have much of anything, so he tosses some of the veggies and meat together in the pot, watching it carefully as it cooks. It’s not the most creative meal, and Zolf decides to buy some more ingredients the next chance he gets. 

After eating, he pulls off the prosthetic and takes a few minutes to massage his leg. Riding with it was much easier than walking, but it still jostled enough that he’s sore, now. Maybe tomorrow he can figure out a way to keep it more secure without literally lashing his leg to the side of Figgis. He needs to be able to dismount in a hurry, after all. 

The fire continues to burn as Zolf settles in to sleep. It’s going to be another long day of travel tomorrow. He spends the night in a  _ relative _ sort of comfort. The wooden floor is hard and cold, but the shack is far enough away from the main route that he isn’t worried about any bokoblins or moblins stumbling into it. 

He holds his hand up in front of his face, frowning as he stares at it in the near-darkness. It’s laced with scars that he can’t identify, marks that mar his skin with stories that he doesn’t even know anymore. Not for the first time, he wonders just who he’s supposed to be. Everyone expects him to be the hero of legend, to storm the castle and slay Mars and help Hamid, but he just… feels a void inside of him where his identity is. All he knows about himself is what other people have told him, expectations that they’ve placed upon him. He doesn’t have his own history. Not yet. 

Maybe he never will. Maybe he’ll die tomorrow with nothing to have made a name out of except another failure. People call him Zolf, call him  _ hero,  _ and while the name fits, the title really doesn’t. It’s like a mantle made for someone  _ other  _ than Zolf. Another Zolf, maybe. One that existed 100 years ago and was the hero everyone expected him to be. 

Zolf doesn’t feel like that. He feels like a blank slate, like someone  _ new,  _ but he has no idea  _ how  _ to make himself into a person. Not when the specter of Mars hangs above his head. Not when he has to go save Hamid, because something deep in his bones is constantly pulling him toward the castle. Toward Hamid. 

Introspection can wait. Zolf can be the tool they need, for now, even if he ends up resenting it. 

… Great. Now he’s maudlin. 

He rolls over on his side and curls up into himself. The fire helps keep the worst of the chill away, but he doesn’t have a very restful night, and is up early the next morning, rising with the sun. Figgis seems just fine where he left him, and neighs as Zolf comes near, angling his head toward him. Zolf strokes his mane and then sets his pack up on his back before pulling himself up as well. They need to make good time today, finish crossing the plains and get to the wetlands by midday. Once they’re through that, they should be able to reach the domain by nightfall, and Zolf can figure out what’s going on and how to regain control of the divine beast. 

If he can. 

He shakes the thought away and continues riding. It won’t do to give up this early in the game. 

Hyrule Field seems to stretch on forever, but Zolf is only curving around the edge of it. He comes to a halt at the edge of the wetlands, pulling Figgis up short so that they can stop for some food and a quick rest. He feeds an apple to Figgis and then steps back to grab some bread and cheese out of his rucksack. 

Something thrums through his chest, an unfamiliar feeling that makes Zolf slowly straighten up and turn, glancing over the wetlands. This place, it… Zolf squints a bit, looking between the trees. Something about it feels familiar, almost. As though he’d been here before, a long time ago. It’s so faint, he can barely even remember. 

An instinct strikes him, and he takes out the stone, imitating Curie’s motions. He pulls up the still images and glances through them, heart rate picking up as he finds the one that’s identical to where he’s standing. He  _ was  _ here. Him and Hamid, a century ago. 

Zolf’s head begins to hurt as he looks around, and his hands start to shake. Something builds in his chest, a pressure that he can’t get rid of, and he feels the adrenaline spiking through his veins as the pain in his head reaches a fever pitch. He nearly drops the stone as he grabs at the sides of his skull, gritting his teeth together, and then his vision goes  _ white.  _

_ The morning sun is beating down on Zolf as he walks steadily along the path leading out of the castle. Castle Town is bustling, as ever, and he gives a slight nod to the captain of the guard as they pass through the gates.  _

_ The captain nods back; he’s the one who took Zolf’s old job, when Zolf had become the prince’s personal guard. Of sorts. There’s more to it than that, obviously, but Zolf’s still a little bitter about the whole thing. He’d liked being captain of the guard; all the soldiers respected him, and the strategy aspect of it had been something he’d genuinely been good at. Of course, it all changed when the king noticed the tattoo on the back of his hand, and decided that meant he had to step down as captain and start protecting His Royal Pratness.  _

_ Speaking of the prince, he’s walking steadily ahead of Zolf, leading the way to their two horses. The stablehand has already gotten both of the steeds ready, holding them both by the reins as he spots Zolf and the prince coming closer. He drops into a deep bow - as deep as he can get without tugging on the reins - and Zolf rolls his eyes. Such is the cost of traveling with the prince.  _

_ Zolf goes up to Giffis, who huffs at his side. He reaches out to stroke the back of his neck, careful not to let his fingers get all tangled up in his mane. He’d named the horse himself, ignoring Hamid’s suggestions, but he thinks it suits him. Hamid still refuses to call him that, though, which makes communication a bit awkward. Whatever. Zolf can deal with it.  _

_ He thanks the stablehand, flipping him a few coins, and the stablehand backs away, shooting him furtive thankful glances. Zolf sighs, and gets up onto Giffis’ back, clicking his tongue to get Giffis to get moving.  _

_ At his side, Hamid swings himself up onto Arellia, and sets off, leaving Zolf behind. Nothing new there, then. Zolf bites back a groan and instead tightens his fists in the reins before gently nudging Giffis in the flank. They set off after Hamid, a comfortable pace half for the horses, and half because Hamid is reading while they travel. _

_ They go on without speaking for a bit, the only sound the insects buzzing around them and the steady beat of the horse’s hooves against the ground. Zolf wishes that this were an outlier, but he and Hamid just… don’t really talk much. The other royals get along with their private guards just fine, but Zolf always senses this sort of… hostility, almost, coming from Hamid. Never  _ **_outright_ ** _ of course; he’s too proper for that. _

_ Eventually, they make it to the outskirts of Hyrule Field, and Zolf pulls Giffis to a halt. Up ahead, Hamid’s horse does the same. He may be leading, but the horse knows that Zolf is in charge, and he listens more to him than to his rider. Thankfully. Zolf thinks Hamid would have torn off down the road given the chance. _

_ Around midday, they stop, dismounting and letting the horses eat while they have a few snacks. It’s not long before they’re off again, walking next to the steeds this time. Hamid claimed that he was getting nauseous from trying to read, but that he needed to get through this before they made it to Zora’s domain. Zolf hasn’t argued, although he’d been tempted.  _

_ “They’re called Divine Beasts,” Hamid explains out of nowhere, glancing down at the stone in his hand. “An ancient civilization created them to be defenders of this land. If we find them, I think we can reprogram them to work under the command of a single Champion - one for each of the beasts. They’re… a marvel of engineering and sheikah technology. I haven’t seen anything the like around the castle these days.” _

_ Zolf doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t think Hamid likes him, much, and Hamid’s also not  _ **_facing_ ** _ him, so. The feeling’s mutual, honestly. Maybe he can convince the prince to release him from duty and he can get his old job back. _

_ The thought almost makes him laugh. There’s no way the king would let that happen, not when he’s afraid of Mars rising again.  _

_ “I’m not sure where the best place to look would be. I was able to decipher some of the runes with Saira’s help, and it pointed us toward Zora’s domain. Hopefully we should be able to find more clues there.” Hamid comes to a stop, looking out through the trees. The line of his shoulders is tight and tense, and Zolf pulls the horses to a stop behind him as Hamid stares out over the wetlands. “This has to work,” he whispers, and Zolf doesn’t think he meant for him to hear.  _

_ He averts his eyes. Hamid might be a bit of a prick, all stuck-up and snooty, but he and Zolf both bear the weight of a destiny they didn’t really want. A destiny they never asked for. They both have to save the world; Zolf with his sword, and Hamid with his magic. The matching marks on the back of their hands dictate that much, at least. The sword on his back is a weight Zolf never thought he would have to bear, but Hamid had been born into this. The power runs through his veins, has been passed down through his family for generations. It was bound to show up before long; Hamid just got lucky. Once he unlocks his magic, he’ll be more powerful than Zolf is. _

_ Hamid turns around, then, face carefully wiped of all emotion as he drops the stone into one of his pockets. He raises an eyebrow when he spots Giffis nuzzling at Zolf’s hair, before cantering off to join Arellia in the wetlands. Hamid sighs, shaking his head slightly, and crosses his arms. “We really do need to be going,” he says, the slight edge of temper coming out in his tone. “The prince and princess are expecting us any time soon.” _

_ Zolf knows. But he also knows that the prince and princess aren’t going to fault them for being a few hours late, and if Giffis and Arellia want to play around in the water for a moment, Zolf isn’t going to stop them. Hamid humours them for a moment as well, but eventually turns back to Zolf. _

_ “Can you make them come along?” Hamid says, nearly hiding the edge of frustration. Anyone other than Zolf wouldn’t be able to pick up on it. “I would hate terribly to keep them waiting.” _

_ “Fine,” Zolf signs, keeping his gestures as measured as he can. Sure, they share a destiny and all, but that doesn’t mean Zolf doesn’t want to half throttle him sometimes. But that would lead to imprisonment and probably the death penalty, so instead he just whistles, and Giffis and Arellia trot reluctantly back to his side. “Let’s go.” _

Zolf blinks awake, fingers curling in the dust as he realises that he’s laying on the ground, prone. Figgis is nosing anxiously at his hair, breath hot against his neck. Zolf pushes him away gently, but Figgis doesn’t go, nudging his head under Zolf’s arm as a support.

_ Thanks, boy,  _ Zolf thinks. He pushes himself up to his knees, careful of the prosthetic, and then uses Figgis as a guide to help himself stand up. His legs shake as he tries to find his balance, and then he looks back out over the wetlands stretching out in front of him. Nothing more comes to him, but this is more than anything he’s had before, and he can’t help the rushing feeling of exhilaration spreading through his chest.

Curie was right. He  _ can  _ get the memories back. Not all of them, probably, not ever, but there’s a chance that he can  _ remember.  _ Can understand who he was, and decide for  _ himself  _ who he  _ wants  _ to be. 

He glances down; the stone had fallen out of his hands when he’d collapsed, and he leans down to pick it up. The pictures have disappeared, probably when he dropped it, and Zolf slips the stone back into his pocket. He has a lot to consider, and so many images are rushing through his brain that it’s hard to contain them all.

Curie had said he and Hamid were inseparable, at the end, but that doesn’t feel… in the memory, he hadn’t even seemed like he  _ liked  _ Hamid. Maybe she’d just meant that Zolf actually  _ wasn’t _ able to leave Hamid’s side, not that they were… close. 

He hates not knowing. Living like his life is just a jigsaw puzzle that he can’t find any of the pieces to. It’s… strange, though. He does want to know, wants to know who he was and who he  _ is  _ and who he  _ should be _ , but there’s a small part of him that rebels, that rejects anything of his past and wants to just… move forward. 

Gods. He can’t think about this now. Not when he’s on this tight of a timeline. He shoves the thoughts out of his head - surely, they’ll return the second he lays down for the night, but for now he’ll compartmentalise.

They get through the wetlands quickly; Zolf can see the lizalfos in the distance, accompanied by faint gurgling noises that he can identify as them communicating with each other, but they don’t notice him as Figgis gallops through. All the better; he could definitely stand to knock a few heads together, but getting to the Domain is more important than his desire to relieve some anger and stress. 

The clouds get darker the closer he gets to the palace he can see in the very,  _ very  _ far distance, and Zolf frowns as there’s a distant rumble of thunder. Figgis tosses his head, whinnying nervously, but Zolf keeps him going forward, rubbing soothingly at his neck. The horse calms down eventually, but Zolf can still feel the tension as he guides Figgis ahead. 

It’s not long before a droplet hits Zolf’s head, and then another, and then it’s like the sky  _ opens  _ the moment he crosses into the Zora's kingdom. The rain is relentless, making it nearly impossible to see in front of him, but Figgis forged ahead, as close to a warhorse as Zolf has ever seen. Zolf’s soaked to the bone, and Figgis’ mane is in mats against his neck, but both of them are determined. The palace rises in front of them, creeping closer every minute, and even through the pouring rain, Zolf can see the majesty of it. 

It’s getting late; it’s been dark with rain clouds ever since they got close to the domain, but now it’s  _ really  _ dark, lanterns the only thing Zolf’s really able to see by. They come to a bridge and Zolf slips off Figgis - it’s not far to go, now, and Figgis could do with the rest. Zolf can handle the pain from his prosthetics later (a dual rain and overuse combo won’t be particularly enjoyable, but he’s willing to deal with some discomfort, putting it mildly, if it means Figgis gets the rest he deserves). 

“Oi!” he hears the moment they start crossing the bridge. It’s a deep voice from…  _ somewhere _ , Zolf can’t tell with the rain pounding down on all sides of him. “Up here!”

He looks up and spots a black Zora, permanent frown seemingly etched onto his face, sitting on the side of the bridge. Zolf tries to shield his eyes, but it’s nigh impossible to even look up with how hard the rain is falling. The shape moves before Zolf can really figure out what’s going on, and there’s a thud in front of him as the Zora lands on his feet and straightens up. Zolf’s eyes trace the movement, stretching up and up as the Zora draws himself up to his full height. 

He’s  _ huge.  _ Taller than anyone Zolf’s met so far, and with muscles that look like they could crush Zolf in an instant. He also doesn’t look happy - which could be from the rain, Zolf supposes - but there’s an air of complete exhaustion and resignation that rolls off of him. 

“We’ve been looking for a Hylian,” the Zora says, looking slightly unimpressed as he crosses his arms. “I suppose you’ll do.”

_ Great start _ , Zolf thinks with a frown, but it’s mostly hidden by his beard  _ and  _ the rain, so the Zora doesn’t notice. 

“Emeka,” he greets, and sticks a hand out for Zolf to shake. Zolf takes it, shakes, and then drops Emeka’s hand so that he can fingerspell his name. Emeka watches carefully, and then tilts his head. “You’re Zolf?” Zolf nods, and Emeka makes a considering noise as he sizes Zolf up. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t put a finger on it.”

Zolf shrugs. He can guess where Emeka might know the name from, but he isn’t going to be the one who shares 

“Come with me, if you want to help,” Emeka says, and Zolf nods, even though he still feels a  _ bit  _ offended by Emeka’s earlier comment. Whatever. He needs to get inside the Divine Beast, and if this Zora can lead him to the Domain, then he might know something Zolf can use. 

“Why do you need a Hylian?” Zolf asks, tapping Emeka on the shoulder to get his attention before starting to sign.

“We need lightning arrows to power down the beast and let someone inside,” Emeka explains, looking slightly nauseous. “Lightning affects us Zora more than it does others. If we try to shoot one, we’ll get knocked out. We’ve already lost a few soldiers to the beast, and I would like to not lose any more.”

The beast… so Emeka needs him for the Divine Beast after all. That’s perfect, actually. 

“Is there a… king, or something? An elder?” Zolf asks when Emeka turns back to face him. 

“... You’re looking at him,” is all he says, face shuttering. Zolf stops walking, jaw dropping open. Emeka’s way younger than Zolf had expected, although he does have an air of weariness about him that Zolf supposes makes sense. 

Zolf wants to apologise for the question, but Emeka has already turned away, trudging back toward the bridge. 

They turn a corner as they cross the bridge, the one leading into the city, and Zolf is finally able to see the domain in all its splendor. Hs can’t help but walk a bit more slowly as they cross the bridge and step into the domain proper. There’s a gigantic fish statue that towers over the domain, tail curving up to the sky. It’s incredibly intricate, scales carved every color of the rainbow. The paths throughout the domain curl around the fish, made of a brilliant, clear, blue stone. Zolf looks down and realises that he can see completely through to the water below; his stomach drops for a moment, but it’s not long before he acclimates. The domain continues, levels below, with bathing pools, homes constructed out of the same sort of stone that sits throughout the domain, communal sleeping pools lined up next to each other. In front, there’s a massive staircase, bracketed by paths leading off in all directions, that must lead into the throne room, if Zolf has any guess. 

Something about all of this feels… familiar. He must have been here before, and more than once based on how he recognises the architecture, how he feels  _ settled  _ here. He looks around and notices that Emeka is fairly far ahead of him now, and half-jogs to catch up. 

As they start up one of the paths, he can see the Divine Beast in the reservoir, only the trunk of it visible, and steels himself for a fight; Emeka, however, turns the opposite direction, heading away from where the Beast is rampaging. He raps Emeka on the arm with his knuckles and he turns, eyebrow raised. 

“Where are we going? Isn’t the Beast that way?” he asks; Emeka just snorts. 

“It’s too late to fight. I’m taking you to the inn,” Emeka says, but it's short. “You can stay there for the night and face Vah Ruta tomorrow. You look like you’re dead on your feet.”

Zolf’s tempted to argue, but his legs do feel like

they have weights tied around them, so he decides to just follow Emeka. They pass through the main plaza; there aren’t many Zora out at this hour, but the ones who are give the two of them curious looks as they pass. Zolf wonders if this is just… going to be the standard anywhere he visits, and hunches his shoulders up as though that will do anything about the eyes he can feel on his back. 

In the center of the plaza is a massive statue, depicting a female Zora that’s only a little bit smaller than Emeka is. She looks powerful but benevolent, spear gripped tightly in one hand while the other is reaching out in greeting. Something about it feels familiar to Zolf, and he slows, coming to a stop in front of the statue. Emeka takes a moment to notice that Zolf is no longer following him, and doubles back to stand at Zolf’s side.

“My little sister,” Emeka answers the question Zolf didn’t ask, voice thick with grief as he looks up at the statue. “Azu. She was a Champion, 100 years ago. When Mars rose again and all the beasts turned on us… she was trapped inside Vah Ruta. She died.”

“I’m sorry,” Zolf signs, and Emeka sighs, but doesn’t say anything in return. 

They stand there in silence, in the shadow of the statue. As Zolf looks at it, he can feel the pressure in his head once more, just like earlier when he’d been staring across the marshlands. It’s…  _ louder _ this time, harsher, and he covers his eyes with his hands as he lets out a pained gasp, feeling his knees give out as he crumples to the floor below. 

_ A waterfall roars under Zolf’s feet as he gently kicks his legs back and forth, leaning back on the reservoir he’s sat on as he lets the sun warm his body. His eyes are closed, and for the first time in a while, he feels truly at peace. Zora’s Domain is one of his favorite places to visit; it’s not so hot to be uncomfortable like the desert or Death Mountain, and Hebra is so cold Zolf’s worried he might freeze his bits off if he isn’t careful. But this is just… perfect.  _

_ “Hello, Zolf!” he hears, a happy, lilting voice, and a smile stretches across his face as he opens his eyes. He looks down to see Azu, treading water at the bottom of the waterfall. “May I come up?”  _

_ Zolf nods, and then throws up a double thumbs up, as he’s not sure what she’ll be able to make out. She seems to get the message well enough, disappearing under the water for a moment before he can spot her swimming up the waterfall, arms and legs moving powerfully as she fights against the current. She breaches the top and is thrown into the air, landing a few feet away from Zolf on one knee. It’s the most graceful he’s ever seen her, and he’s sure to clap as she straightens up. She blushes as he does so, but the smile never fades from her face. She joins him on the edge of the reservoir, legs dangling over the edge as she lays down, hands under the fin on her head.  _

_ Zolf likes Azu. She was the first champion that they convinced to work with them, and she took to Vah Ruta like a - well, like a Zora to water, he supposes. Her power is healing, and she’s been nice enough to help Zolf out any time he’d come back from a battle with cuts and bruises stretching across his body. She’s also just…  _ **_good._ ** _ To be around. To talk to. She pulls people out of their shell, and she’s got an intuition that Zolf envies. Honestly, she might even be better at reading people than Wilde is, and that’s really saying something. Zolf should tell him that, actually. It’d be worth it just to see the barely suppressed irritation and argument in his face.  _

_ “How’s the Domain?” Zolf asks, leaning forward as he rests his elbows on his knees. His shirt’s off to make the most of the warmth, leaving his scars on display for the world. His skin is marked nearly everywhere; small white lines across his arms and legs and torso, deeper scars right under his chest from surgery, a nasty scar that stretches across his back, and various marks from training accidents or fights that he never had properly healed.  _

_ “It’s functioning,” Azu replies, and she sounds more than a little tired, but that never overtakes the happiness in her tone. “My father has really been given the runaround, recently. I don’t think he realised just how much organising I handled for him. Now, the elders are breathing down his neck all hours of the day.” _

_ Zolf snorts. “I’m sure he loves that.” _

_ Azu laughs as well. “The other day, he - he called them all… camel humps? I think - I think it was meant to be an old Gerudo curse that a traveler taught him, but the translation didn’t really. Work. It was so funny, watching all of them flounder.” _

_ Zolf can only imagine. “How’s Emeka?” _

_ Azu shakes her head. “A terror. He has the run of the palace and his tutors live in fear. Honestly.” _

_ “I’m sure he’s not  _ **_that_ ** _ bad,” Zolf says. He knows Emeka has always been a bit of a wild child, ever since he was old enough to swim on his own.  _

_ “You think so?” Azu says with a wry smile. “You take care of him for a few hours, then.” _

_ Zolf can’t shake his head fast enough. He likes kids well enough, enjoys spending time with them, but as with all things… better in moderation. _

_ They sit at the edge of the dam in silence for a moment. The sun will be setting soon, disappearing behind the mountains in the distance and taking its warmth away as well. Zolf loves watching the sunset from the top of the reservoir, loves how Hyrule Castle looks with the sun turning it to nothing but a silhouette.  _

_ “Has Hamid left yet?” Azu asks, and Zolf gives her a look. “Ah, right. He’s not allowed to.” _

_ “Oh, he’s  _ **_allowed_ ** _ to,” Zolf signs, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I’m just assigned to guard him. If he wants to leave, we leave. I don’t get a say in the matter.” _

_ Azu makes a noncommittal noise, and Zolf slowly signs an apology. He knows that she doesn’t like being part of the… tension, between himself and Hamid. No one does, really. He knows that too, it’s just… Hamid’s  _ **_impossible_ ** _ to get on with, sometimes. _

_ “I don’t know if he sees it that way,” Azu says in lieu of everything else. “Maybe you two should speak about this. Figure out a way that you both can be happy.” _

_ Zolf laughs, but it’s bitter and short. “Yeah. Like the king would ever let something like that happen. Not when Hamid is ‘our only hope’.” He stabs down on the inverted commas, fingers jerking in his irritation, and wraps his arms around his knees as he pulls them up to his chest. “God forbid anything happen to him.” _

_ “That’s not fair, Zolf.”  _

_ Zolf sighs. “I know.  _

_ “You need to give him more of a chance,” Azu says. “He’s trying.” _

_ “Could try a little harder, if you ask me,” Zolf signs, face pulling together in annoyance. It’s only half real, though, for Azu’s sake. _

_ “Be nice!” Azu scolds, lightly hitting Zolf in the arm. There’s no real force behind it, but Zolf also knows that she’s being at least a  _ **_little_ ** _ serious. She hates when any of them fight, whether that be Zolf and Hamid or Hamid and Grizzop or one notable occasion where Zolf and Grizzop got into it. (It’s funny, actually, that it’s only ever those three. Sasha and Cel have no interest in fighting with any of the rest of them, apart from one argument between Zolf and Sasha over a misunderstanding.) _

_ Zolf laughs. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I’ll try too, then.”  _

_ Azu pulls him against her side, arm wrapping around his shoulders in a warm hug. “That’s all I can ask.” _

“Zolf. Zolf!” He hears someone calling his name and groans, blinking blearily. Emeka’s face swims into view above him, frown replaced temporarily with worry and stress. “Are you okay? You just collapsed.”

“I remembered,” he signs. “I remembered Azu.”

Emeka stares at him, and Zolf signs it again, unsure if he was able to understand.

“How are you - you’re a Hylian, you don’t live as long as we do, how do you remember -“ Emeka cuts himself off as something seems to slot into his mind, and when he looks at Zolf again, something unreadable flits across his face. “You’re the Hero,” he says, voice flat, and Zolf winces.

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” he signs. 

“I thought you died,” Emeka says, and something in his tone tells Zolf that he wouldn’t have been all that upset if Zolf had.

Zolf can’t blame him. The Champions, the Beasts… as far as he can tell, it was him and Hamid that asked people to volunteer for the job, and if Emeka’s sister had died to the Beast, Zolf gets why Emeka is looking at him with poorly disguised mistrust and anger.

“I’m sorry,” he signs again, because what else is he supposed to say? 

“It’s…” Emeka takes a deep breath, and then turns away. “I know it’s not your fault. Azu chose this herself, and I can’t be upset at you for that decision.”

He starts to walk away again, but his shoulders are clearly tense. Zolf doesn’t know what else to say, and wishes he were…  _ better  _ at this part of it. Instead, he just follows along, feeling vaguely ashamed of himself as Emeka doesn’t speak. They get to the inn soon enough, Emeka and the innkeeper conversing in a language that sounds familiar to Zolf’s ears, even if he isn’t able to understand it. The innkeeper seems to be argumentative at first, but then something  _ changes,  _ and they immediately agree to what Emeka says. Zolf wonders what it was, and hopes that it wasn’t about him. Just… Emeka pulling his royal card, or something, instead of the Hero one.

Regardless, he probably won’t know - though, judging by the way the innkeeper watches him leave, he thinks he can guess. 

“I’ll send someone to fetch you tomorrow,” Emeka says, handing Zolf the key to his room. Zolf takes it and signs an absent thank you, trying to find the words to ensure that Emeka doesn’t walk away upset. He needn’t have bothered, though; Emeka turns and leaves before Zolf can say anything in return. 

The guilt is a silent companion, but it still keeps Zolf up later than he’d intended, especially when he has to fight tomorrow. He rolls over and over, unable to get comfortable, and unable to get the memory of Azu out of his head. It haunts him, a bit, and he wishes he could remember… more. He finally falls asleep, but his dreams are tumultuous and confusing, filled with images of things he doesn’t understand. 

Zolf wakes up the next morning to the smell of something amazing wafting into his room; blearily, he gets out of bed and pulls his prosthetic on. Maybe he should look into getting a cane, just to help relieve some of the pressure. 

There’s a knock on his door and Zolf starts, pulling his prosthetic on quicker than he normally would as he stumbles over to the door. He pulls it open, shirt hanging half off his shoulder, and blinks at the innkeeper standing there. They drop into a bow, which immediately sets Zolf on edge, and he makes uncomfortable humming noises until they straighten up. 

“There is a messenger here for you, sir,” they say, sounding demure and deferential. Zolf can feel his shoulders getting tenser by the second. “The King sent her along.”

_ Shite.  _ “Thank you, I’ll be - I’ll be along in a second,” Zolf signs and closes the door unceremoniously in their face. He stumbles through getting all his clothes on, but does it quickly, and grabs up all his things - it’s not much, not more than a pack and his hatchet - before hurrying out of the inn. 

The messenger in question rushes over to him the second she sees him, picking him up in a huge hug, spinning him around. “By the gods, I thought you hadn’t made it through that last battle!” 

Zolf lets himself be jostled around for a bit, but pushes her away, stumbling back a bit. “Sorry,” he signs, “but who are you?”

“You don’t remember?” she asks, face falling a bit, and Zolf shakes his head.

“No, sorry,” he signs. “Lost all my memories.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m Erika, Captain of the Guard!” she announces, one arm crossing her chest as she lays her fist over where her heart would be. “You, me, and Bronc were near inseparable when you would come visit the Domain, even before you got stuck with the little princeling.”

“Really?”

“Really really! Used to play pirates. I was the captain, of course,” she says, puffing out her chest, and Zolf can’t help but chuckle a bit. 

“And I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me anything else, if I had my memory?” he teases, and something about it feels natural. Erika splutters for a moment before hitting him on the arm.

“I would  _ never.  _ You were my first mate, anyway. Got nearly as much attention as I did, of course.”

“Sounds… nice,” Zolf signs, and Erika sighs, dreamily. 

“It was. Simpler times, back then.” She quiets for a moment, seemingly lost in the memory, but then quickly shakes herself. “Anyway! The King asked me to lead you up to the reservoir. Follow me.” 

Zolf nods, and Erika leads him through the domain, pausing briefly to chat to a few soldiers they run into along the way. All of them speak the same language Emeka had at the inn last night, and Zolf realises it must be their native tongue. One he doesn’t understand, which only rankles him a bit. They finally make it to the outer edge of the Domain, and Erika starts up a grand set of stairs that runs behind the waterfall. 

“We’re almost there!” she calls down, and Zolf gives her a thumbs up. His thighs hurt a bit from the climb, but he can see the end coming up, and quickens his pace until he and Erika are standing on the dam that blocks off the reservoir.

“Thanks,” Zolf signs, and Erika gives him a salute. 

“Happy to help. And good to see you back, boss. You’ll defeat the beast no problem,” she says, clapping him solidly on the back. The hit lands, and Zolf only just saves himself from stumbling forward from the force of it. He tries not to wince as he smiles up at Erika, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes him think this was normal for them. She jogs off - Zolf would love to know where she gets the energy from, but instead he wanders over to Emeka, who’s stood at the edge of the pier leading into the reservoir. He’s looking out over the water with a complicated look on his face, but murmurs a hello to Zolf when he stops at his side. 

“Here. A bow and some shock arrows.” Zolf reaches out and takes it; the bow is light in his grip, and the arrows spark with electricity when he pulls one out of its quiver. Emeka flinches when he does, but quickly composes himself. “You’ll need to use these on the power cores on Vah Ruta’s back to shut it down before entering the beast.”

Zolf nods, and slings the bow over his back before tying the quiver around his chest. It’s a bit of a shift, with the added weight, but he’ll get used to it quickly enough. 

“Get on,” Emeka says as he turns around, and Zolf takes a step back, slowly shaking his head. 

“Absolutely not,” Zolf signs when Emeka turns to face him, most likely to ask why Zolf hasn’t climbed onto his back. 

“Yes. I’m coming with you,” Emeka says, in a tone that allows no argument. 

Zolf tries anyway. “No, you’re not.”

Emeka just gives him a withering glare. “Yeah? How are you gonna even get close to the beast, then?” 

Zolf turns to look at the reservoir, considering. “Fly?” 

Emeka snorts. “It would shoot you before you even got close. We’ll have to go through the water, and no offense, but you’re too slow to make it.”

Zolf chews on his lip. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” he signs, but Emeka just shrugs.

“A bit late for that, isn’t it?” he says wryly, and holds out one of his arms. There’s a nasty scar that curls around it, crossed over with thin white lines that must have come from claws. “We’ve all been getting hurt for the past 100 years. But now there’s hope again. If this is going to help stop Mars forever, then I’m going to help. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want any more people to be hurt by him.”

It stings, but he’s not wrong.

“Fine.” Zolf finally gives in, because he  _ is  _ going to need Emeka’s help to even get to the beast, and if Emeka tries to come inside, they can rehash this discussion. Zolf isn’t going to budge on that front - if there needs to be a fight, he won’t drag anyone else into it. 

“Here.” Emeka shoves a package in Zolf’s direction. “Open it.”

Zolf does, because it feels like bad form

to turn away a gift, and he lets the packaging fall away as he pulls out a delicately carved silver sword and shield. 

“It’s a gift, from my people to you. If you’re going to be going in and facing whatever creature resides inside the Divine Beast, you need to be properly outfitted.”

“I - are you sure?” he asks, confident that it has to be a mistake. The metal is so carefully crafted, it must have taken  _ days.  _ They can’t mean to give it to  _ him. _

“Yes,” Emeka says. “A lot of the elders are displeased, but our royal armourer wouldn’t hear any of it. This is from her private stores. She  _ wanted  _ to give it to you, and the people agreed.”

Zolf feels a bit wrong-footed. It’s only been a day, how could they… trust him this much? He says as much to Emeka, but he just shrugs.

“Zora are early risers,” he explains. “And that’s not all.” He pulls out what looks to be scale mail, handing it over to Zolf. “Before… before everything, our castle armourer was working on this for you. Azu had asked him to make Zora armour for all of her friends, and yours and Hamid’s was the only one he’d gotten through when everything fell. So. Here.”

Zolf takes it, rubbing a hand over the scales. It’s finely crafted, and made of sleek but thick material, probably intended for the dual purpose of keeping him warm in cold water and deflecting basic weaponry. The scales run across his shoulders, forearms. and calves, and there are fine pieces of metal around the joints, to protect him. The headpiece imitates that of a Zora, small tail sticking out of the back to help with - Zolf assumes - balance. 

“Thank you, I - I don’t really know what to say?” Zolf signs, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment. Emeka either doesn’t notice or doesn’t comment, turning his back. 

“Get changed,” he instructs, and Zolf complies. He’s not about to turn the armour down, after all. 

He changes quickly; he realises that he doesn’t much care about modesty, and wonders if it stems from having been a knight for so long. Maybe one day he’ll know. Maybe not. He can only hope. 

Once the final piece is on, he folds up the Harlequin set and sets it inside his pack, securing it tightly. He carefully ties the bag to himself, setting it against his back for easy access without it sitting there, loose. He’d considered leaving it behind, but the kind people at the inn had given him some potions this morning - healing potions, specifically - and he has a feeling deep in his gut that he’s going to need them. 

He returns to where Emeka had been standing, feeling a bit awkward in the armour, as though it were made for someone who wasn’t him (it was, honestly, but that’s not something he really thinks he should be thinking about right now.)

Emeka eyes him critically. “That’ll do,” he says with a shrug, and then he and Zolf walk to the end of the pier together, standing and staring at the Beast in silence. Vah Ruta surfaces once more, seemingly going in circles around the reservoir, and Zolf sets his jaw.

“Ready?” Emeka asks, and Zolf nods, determination curling in the pit of his stomach. Emeka leaps, diving into the water, and then surfaces, presenting his back to Zolf. “Get on, then.”

The water is cold, but his armour keeps him just this side of warm as Emeka swims. Zolf clutches onto his shoulders, trying his best not to be thrown off as Emeka navigates the choppy current caused by Vah Ruta. He’s fast and skilled, and Zolf can’t help but be impressed as Emeka makes it close to the Beast and just circles, dodging the ice blocks being thrown at him from a distance. 

“Ready?” Emeka shouts over the rush of water and the mechanical creaking of Vah Ruta. Zolf taps him twice on the shoulder - their agreed-upon nonverbal signal for  _ yes,  _ and Emeka flips, launching Zolf into the air. Zolf snaps open the paraglider as he hits his zenith, and immediately spots the four bright red lights that Emeka had told him to look for.

Time seems to freeze as he nocks his bow with the static arrows, and his aim is true as he sends four arrows flying rapidly, connecting with the four power cores of Vah Ruta. Zolf lets the paraglider carry him closer to the water and then lets go, falling with a splash as Emeka swims up under him in support. 

The beast lets out a scream that sounds more like metal grinding against itself, and then Vah Ruta goes still, half-submerged in the water of the reservoir. 

“Let’s go,” Emeka says, and Zolf grabs onto his fins once more as Emeka swims toward Vah Ruta. The water is still, apart from a few ripples spreading outward from where the beast rampaged. Emeka pulls up outside the small platform and hoists himself up, pulling Zolf up with him. 

“Thanks,” Zolf signs, and Emeka waves it away.

“I can’t… come inside with you,” he says. “I just - it’s where she died. I can’t.” 

“Yeah, that… look. Go keep an eye out. If I’m not back in a few hours, send someone in after me?” he asks, and Emeka nods. 

“Good luck. Make it pay, whatever it is.” The beast moves, a strange trumpeting sound coming from its trunk, and Zolf and Emeka both stumble, grabbing onto a nearby railing to get their balance. Emeka leaps off the platform once it’s steadied, executing a perfect dive into the water below. His head pops up between the waves even as the platform rises far above him, leaving Zolf stranded with no way down. 

“The power cores won’t be down for long! You need to go, now!” Emeka yells up to him, and Zolf nods before stumbling inside and regaining a little bit of his equilibrium. 

He stops just barely inside the entryway, looking around in amazement. The Divine Beast is nothing like what he thought it would be. It’s a marvel of mechanics, gears and nuts and bolts moving seamlessly together, so smoothly that Zolf thinks there must be magic involved. It’s astonishing that an entire century later, these ancient contraptions are still able to work perfectly. 

**Zolf?** he hears come from nowhere, and whips around, because for a moment it sounds like Hamid. It takes him a second to realise that the voice is only in his head, and then he’s swamped with the feeling of grief and relief and regret and confusion, all at once.  **You’re okay!**

He glances around, trying to pinpoint the voice, but there’s nothing he can see. 

**Hamid… isn’t with you,** he hears, and shakes his head. Whoever it is is clearly trying to keep a positive tone as they continue.  **I had hoped - if he’s still at the castle, fighting, then…**

Zolf wishes he could reassure - it has to be Azu, because the voice sounds like how he remembers from the single memory of her he has. But he’s left powerless to communicate, hands frozen at his side as a malicious energy spreads through the central chamber of the Divine Beast.

**You have to fight the Blight,** the voice says, and Zolf turns toward the central core, which is pulsing with malice and shadows that stretch outward, thick tendrils that are starting to coalesce into the shape of a twisted creature, nearly three times his size.  **It got the better of me, 100 years ago. But I believe in you, Zolf. You can defeat it.**

Zolf wants to thank the strange voice for the vote of confidence, but he narrowly dodges a nasty spear that passes just by his head, and realises that they can have a conversation later. 

The spear vanishes, rematerialising in the blight’s hand. It shines with a blue light, looking sinister as anything, and Zolf swallows heavily as he pulls out the sword Emeka had given him, almost laughably small in comparison. The shield comes too, and Zolf hopes against hope that it will provide any sort of cover against this creature. 

_ Come and get it,  _ Zolf thinks fiercely, and drops into a stance, ready for a fight. 

It’s a terrifying dance, for a while. Zolf is left dodging the long swipes with the spear, parrying it with his shield and sword when he can, but he’s constantly on the defensive, desperate to find even a sliver of an opening. He lands a few hits when the creature seems like it’s recharging, but they don’t seem to do nearly enough damage. The creature seems to have an unlimited well of energy, but Zolf can feel himself flagging as the battle continues to stretch on and on. He narrowly dodges one hit, and then another, but he’s left so out-of-step that he can’t even rush the thing when it pulls back to throw the spear once again. 

It whistles through the air, thrown with deadly force; Zolf moves, just in time, but as he does, the spear strikes the sword for a final time, and the metal breaks apart in his hand. He’s left holding the hilt of a sword, functionally useless, and he swears in his head. The spear comes again and he only just dodges, pulling his trusty hatchet out of his belt. 

He tries to break the spear the next time it nearly hits him, but it must be something otherworldly, because the hatchet doesn’t even do a sliver of damage. The blood drains from Zolf’s face as he realises how much trouble he’s in.

**Careful!** he hears, and sets his jaw. He’s  _ trying,  _ and the voice will only distract him now. He has to focus on the  _ fight,  _ and nothing else will - 

Pain  _ explodes  _ through Zolf’s brain as the edge of the spear rips through Zolf’s abdomen, cutting through his armour and slicing his skin, a deep cut. He cries out and sinks to one knee, arm wrapping around his midsection. Blood pours over his skin, and Zolf breathes heavily as he tries to regain his focus. He pulls one of the potions out of his pack and rips the cork out with his teeth, downing the entire thing. Slowly, his skin knits back together, but he can feel the damage lurking there still. It won’t hold for long; he needs a healer, and soon.

The beast roars, and Zolf grabs his axe again, blood staining the handle as he holds it tightly. Attacking its legs hadn’t done anything, and as he looks it over, his eyes catch on a single glowing orb set into the thing’s head. It  _ has  _ to be its weak point; it  _ has  _ to. 

He pulls his bow out; one arrow left. The beast starts to race at him, somehow running  _ over _ the water, claws catching in it as though it’s a solid surface. It has murder in his eyes, and Zolf realises that this is really his last chance. Wincing with the effort, Zolf nocks his bow and pulls back, letting his arrow fly the second he has a clear shot. 

He  _ hits _ , a perfect shot to the head, and the blight crumples, collapsing onto one of the raised wooden platforms. Zolf scrambles over there, moving as quickly as his injuries will allow, and buries his hatchet into the glowing eye on top of it. 

Shadows  _ pour _ from the incision that his axe made, and the creature screams in rage and pain as its body begins to twist and warp. Zolf stumbles back, as far away from it as he can get, and eventually presses his back against the wall as the blight bends over backwards, malice dripping like blood into the water below. It’s a horrific sight, but Zolf can’t avert his eyes, clinging to the sense of vindication and revenge that watching this thing die, finally, brings him. It killed Azu, after all, and left Emeka alone, and Zolf might not be able to completely remember her, but he can remember her warmth, her  _ goodness, _ and a sick sense of satisfaction washes over him as he watches.

It’s not over quickly, but finally the blight is left nothing more than a bundle of shadows and malice. Zolf falls to his knees as the blight screams one final time, dark shadows and malice spilling out of the creature as it scrapes its nails across the floor. The sound attacks Zolf’s eardrums, but he’s too exhausted to even move, and it slowly fades away as the scream echoes across the walls. It weakens, even as the blight tries to creep closer to him, and Zolf breathes heavily, arm wrapped around his midsection as the blight dissolves, black shadows evaporating into the air. 

The haze over the room disappears slowly as the last bits of malice vanish, and the redness flowing through the gears and stone of Vah Ruta changes back to a calming blue. He pushes himself to his feet, blood spilling from his wounds onto the floor below. Everything hurts; he can maybe find a healer if he’s able to stumble out and signal for Emeka, but he has no idea if he’ll even be able to make it that far. Gods. If this is the first beast and he barely made it through, how is he supposed to have any hope of fighting the remaining three? 

He takes another step forward but collapses again, forced to crawl along on his hands and knees as he leaves a trail of blood along the wooden platform. The water has receded, and Zolf lets his hand trail in the water. Blood pools around him, turning the water a deep shade of red, and the coolness feels nice against his torn skin. 

“Hello, Zolf,” he hears, a soft voice on the wind, and glances up to see a solid blue shape standing over him. 

Azu. 

“Let me heal this for you,” she offers, and holds her hand over Zolf’s chest. A warmth rushes through him, spreading across his body, and all the aches and pains and wounds that he’d suffered at the hands of the water blight disappear in a moment, replaced with unblemished skin. Zolf, hesitant, reaches down and runs his fingers along the skin. It’s only slightly sore, and even that fades before he’s completed his inspection. Shocked, he looks up at Azu, who just has a soft smile on her face as she glances down at him. 

She reaches a hand down and he takes it, letting her pull him to his feet. His legs are a bit weak, and the prosthetic is screaming at him to take it off, but Zolf can’t do anything but stand there and look.

“You don’t quite remember me, do you?” Azu asks, a knowing look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Zolf signs, slowly. “I don’t remember… anything. All my memories were erased when I awoke.”

Azu’s still smiling, but it’s tinged with an edge of sadness, now, too. Not for herself, for  _ Zolf,  _ but it’s not pity, either, and that makes it better. Easier. 

“It’s good to see you,” she says, and her throat sounds as tight as Zolf’s feels, and then he can’t hold back anymore, stumbling into her. 

Azu pulls him into a tight hug, and even though she’s a spirit, she’s  _ tangible.  _ Her hug sort of feels like static jumping across his skin, but she’s solid and  _ there  _ and Zolf melts into it, burying his head into her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, stroking his back, and Zolf realises it’s the only  _ real _ hug he’s gotten, other than the quick one from Curie, since he woke up. The first one he  _ remembers _ having, and it breaks him. Tears flow freely from his eyes as his fingers clutch at the armor along her back, finding their way into the grooves as Zolf falls apart in her grasp. “It’s  _ okay,  _ Zolf.”

He pulls back so that she can see his hands. 

“It’s not. I  _ failed _ ,” he signs, and his hands shake as the emotion threatens to overwhelm him. “I failed, and now Hamid is stuck in that  _ stupid  _ castle, and I have to go save him -“

“You didn’t fail, Zolf,” she says, cutting him off as she covers his hands with hers. “I won’t hear another word of that.”

Zolf pulls his hands out of her grasp. “But -“

“ _ Stop,”  _ she says, and her eyes are stern. “We all made this choice, Zolf. It was never meant to rest on one person’s shoulders, and you can’t take all of the blame.”

Zolf still wants to argue, and Azu seems to understand that as she shakes her head. “It’s good to see you’re just as stubborn as you always have been.”

They lapse into silence, standing there together in the ruins of the room. Zolf knows he has to leave, but he doesn’t want to lose the peace that he feels, here with Azu. She seems to get that as well, and Zolf again wishes he could remember more of her. It feels like they had been close, and Zolf wants to have that again.

“I know you can do it,” Azu says, cutting through his thoughts, and presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You need to find a way to believe in yourself, too.” 

Zolf doesn’t know  _ how.  _ How is he supposed to have any faith in himself when - when he doesn’t even  _ know  _ who he  _ is? _ He raises his hands to ask, because he’s so tired of feeling lost, of only being able to know who he was through other people’s perceptions, but Azu cocks her head, as though she’s hearing something. 

“Azu?” he asks instead, and Azu lets out a small sigh.

“You can’t stay,” she says. “Vah Ruta has accommodated you for as long as she’s able.”

“Wait - wait, Azu -“

“Tell Emeka I’m so proud of him. And that I love him, even now. Please,” she asks, and Zolf nods. 

“I - Of course,” he signs; how could he not? Azu smiles at him again, and it’s laced with a melancholy understanding that Zolf wishes he couldn’t identify.

“If you ever need me,” is the last thing Zolf hears as his vision begins to fade away. Azu’s gentle smile breaks apart into a bright blue light that surrounds him, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ll be there.”

He feels weightless for a moment, and then his legs touch down again, and he opens his eyes. He’s standing on the edge of the reservoir, at the end of the long dock where he and Emeka had set off for the Divine Beast, but there’s no sight of it. 

Zolf slowly realised that it’s no longer raining, but his face is still wet with tears, and he takes a moment to wipe them away, wishing he could have done anything more for Azu. 

As he watches, Vah Ruta rises from the surface, a powerful trumpeting noise coming from its trunk, and it begins to move, swimming to the other edge of the reservoir. It climbs out, and slowly makes its way to the cliff, walking up a large path to the very top of the mountain. Zolf shields his eyes from the sun, and Vah Ruta shifts, ‘mouth’ opening as a red beam forms. For a moment, there’s complete silence as electricity fills the air, and then the beam shoots out, a solid red line that stretches off into the distance, toward the castle.

“Zolf!” he hears, and turns around to see Emeka running toward him as fast as he can. “You did it!” 

He picks him up and swings him in a hug, and Zol wonders if this is just something all Zora do. It’s not wholly unwelcome, and Emeka puts him down before Zolf can get uncomfortable with this level of physical contact. 

“Azu says she’s proud of you. And that she loves you,” Zolf signs quickly, and Emeka freezes in place, before turning over to face where Vah Ruta now stands on the cliff, a silent protector. 

“She always did like to get the last word in,” Emeka says, and his voice is thick with unshed tears, but Zolf thinks he can see some of the weight lifting off of Emeka’s shoulders. “Brat.”

They leave the reservoir, Emeka leaping off of the waterfall while Zolf takes the stairs. He might be the best at reading people, but he can tell that Emeka wants to be alone, at least for a little bit. He told Zolf to meet him at the entrance to the Domain, and Zolf takes his time, letting Emeka have his time alone. 

He stops by the stables on the way down; well, he calls them stables - it’s really just a post nailed to the ground where Figgis had stayed overnight, with some feed and water to the side. The Zora stood at the front explains that they don’t have many visitors, not now, but they make sure to have food stores just in case. Zolf thanks them for taking care of Figgis and flips them a gold piece; they nearly trip over themselves to thank him, but he’s able to escape not long after, trudging his way back to the front of the Domain. Emeka’s already there when he arrives, staring up at the statue of Azu and clearly lost in thought. 

“Normally, we’d throw a feast in your honour,” Emeka says as he walks up. It startles Zolf a bit - he’d thought Emeka hadn’t noticed his approach. “But I knew you’d turn it down.”

The spike of panic that had shot through Zolf immediately quiets at Emeka’s clarification. “Thank you,” he signs weakly. “I - that's the last thing I want.”

“Yeah,” Emeka says. “I already told the chefs not to bother. They’re disappointed, but I explained that you wouldn’t be able to stay.”

Zolf feels slightly guilty (again), but it’s true. He doesn’t… have time to sit around for celebrations. Hamid’s waiting for him, and the only reason he came back, as far as he can tell, was to rescue him and defeat Mars. The thought isn’t particularly pleasant, but Zolf’s dealt with a number of unpleasant things since waking up in the shrine, so one more won’t break him. 

“Where are you going next?” Emeka asks, and Zolf shakes himself out of the introspection he definitely  _ doesn’t  _ need to get lost in, and shrugs. 

“I need to stop by Hateno,” he answers, frowning a bit. “Apparently, there’s someone there I need to meet. 

“You sure I can’t go with you?” Emeka asks, crossing his arms as Zolf slings himself up onto Figgis. 

Zolf shakes his head. “You’re needed here. Vah Ruta is tamed, but she’s going to need to have a constant eye on her. Mars’ blight probably won’t be able to gain a hold again, but… I’d rather have someone here, just in case.”

Emeka doesn’t look happy with the decision, but he also doesn’t argue against it, so Zolf counts it as a win. “Fine. But if you get killed out there…”

Zolf laughs, and somewhere in the back of his mind, realises that it’s the first time he’s laughed since waking up. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

“Hey,” Emeka says, extending his arm to grip Zolf’s forearm. “You can do this.”

Zolf chews on the inside of his cheek. Sure, he can. But more than that… he  _ has  _ to. The entire world is resting on his back. His and Hamid’s, and Hamid’s been fighting for 100 years on his own. It’s Zolf’s turn to step up and take Mars down. 

Emeka lets him go and Zolf nods down at him before reading Figgis back and directing him across the bridge and out of the Domain. He stops at the outside of the bridge and looks back, only for a moment, at where Vah Ruta stands proudly on the edge of a cliff. There’s a small blue shape he can see on top, and he raises his hand once, waving goodbye. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the memories are not in chronological order, js y’all know!
> 
> also i am. hm. i have inconsistent capitalisation. it’s fine. go with it


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i’m back uhhhh no clue when the next chapter will be out 
> 
> age of calamity got me good please talk to me about it holy shit

Zolf shouts a wordless battle cry as he charges the blue bokoblin, axe swinging wildly. It connects with the bokoblin’s arm, nearly severing it at the shoulder, and it screams in pain, stumbling backward. Zolf has to dodge quickly as an arrow whistles by his ear, and he rolls to the side, prosthetic  _ painfully  _ protesting as he gets to his feet again. He ignores the wave of pain and throws his axe at a rushing moblin. It sticks in its chest, and Zolf ducks as the moblin swipes a claw at him, roaring in frustration. He reaches up and grabs the axe, dragging it down the moblin’s chest. It collapses as the axe pulls free, dissolving into a pool of malice that spreads slowly across the ground. 

Zolf stares at the oncoming onslaught and takes a deep breath, pulling a second axe out of his belt with a grimace. Double-wielding isn’t his forte (at least, it doesn’t  _ feel  _ like it is, as though Zolf can actually remember what his forte  _ is) _ , but he doesn’t think he has an option, anymore. He’d stumbled into a fight without even knowing it was happening, and now there are bokoblins and moblins on all sides of him. The shield he’d picked up at the last stable is already starting to break, and he doesn’t think it’s going to be able to take many more hits. 

His grip on his axe tightens as he lunges forward, and he neatly decapitates one of his enemies as they, too, fall to the ground. There’s only one bokoblin and a moblin left, both roaring to the sky as they realise Zolf’s felled another one of their group.

Zolf leaves himself open, accidentally, and the remaining moblin swings before Zolf can dodge. The club  _ slams  _ into his side, sending him flying. He can feel his ribs crack from the hit, and then the bones in his arms snapping as he collides with a small stone structure. Blood wells up in his throat and he coughs, lying motionless on the ground. He couldn’t even get up if he wanted to, pain lancing through his body as he attempts to move. His vision swims as he lays there, blinking blearily as his thoughts begin to spiral. He can feel the staccato rhythm of his heart, a steady throb that gets weaker with every pulse.

He’s failed again. Failed again, just because he couldn’t  _ dodge,  _ and now the entire kingdom is going to be taken over. It’s his fault.

_ Gods, I’m sorry, Hamid,  _ he thinks, as his vision slowly starts to go black.  _ I’m sorry. _

Cool hands touch his shoulders even as his eyes slip closed, giving into the darkness, and the pain slowly ebbs away, bones re-setting themselves in his chest and arm. Thankfully, it feels like nothing more than a dull movement under his skin - unpleasant, but painless. 

**Be more careful,** he hears Azu quietly chide him, and he glances around frantically. The blue that had shone from Azu’s body is just at the edge of his vision, and for a moment he can see her spirit, smiling knowingly at him, before fading into thin air.

He couldn’t even thank her. He bites down the groan building in the back of his throat as he rises to his feet, keeping himself as quiet as he can. The two remaining foes don’t expect Zolf when he attacks them from behind, slitting one’s throat in a single motion. He makes sure it’s the moblin; his prosthetic isn’t going to thank him for jumping that high, but they’re the harder ones to deal with. It drops in an instant, not even able to scream, and Zolf doesn’t hesitate before he’s rounding on the bokoblin, smashing the axe into the side of its head as it falls, too. It’s not down for long, jumping back up with a snarl. Zolf tightens his hands around the axe and swings, connecting with its shoulder and neatly slicing through its collarbone. That seems to do the job, and dark malice pours from the wound as the bokoblin sinks to the ground, silent at last.

Zolf follows, in due order. He just… lays down, ignoring the tangy, metallic smell of the malice that lingers on the air. Every part of his body hurts, a deep ache that even Azu’s healing wasn’t able to help. 

It’s been a few days since he left the Domain, since he’d remembered Azu again, since Emeka had promised to keep an eye on the Divine Beast. Most of the journey has been simple; a few fights, calm evenings by the side of the road or in one of the larger stables. Zolf hadn’t realised it would take this long to get to Hateno, and his blood is thrumming to get back to saving Hamid. 

The castle is out of sight, here, hidden by the mountains that surround the valley that Hateno sits in. 

He gets up and sighs; his exhaustion will have to wait, and his leg can just… stuff it for the moment. With a grimace, he slings his leg back up over Figgis again, gently clicking his tongue to get the horse to set off at a light pace. He knows the horse has needed a bit of a break for a while now; the last stable they were at promised that Zolf would make it to Hateno by that evening, and Zolf wants them to be right. They travel for a bit, Zolf chewing on some of the bread in his pack. He’d been able to trade some gems he’d found on his journey at the stable for some food, but he’s quickly running low on his stores. If he doesn’t get to Hateno tonight, he’ll have to hunt. It’s not the most elegant solution, but Zolf doesn’t really have a choice.

He glances down, pulled out of his thoughts as Figgis tenses below him. The horse doesn’t stop moving, but he seems more jumpy, head cocking at every sound coming from the thicket on either side of them. They break through the woods and onto a plain, and Zolf uneasily pulls his hatchet out from its holder as he prepares for an attack. He can’t see anything, or even hear anything apart from Figgis’ motions, but the horse is tense for a reason, and Zolf isn’t very keen on having a repeat of the ambush from earlier. 

There’s nothing else around; the trail is calm and empty, but Figgis doesn’t calm down even the slightest bit, and Zolf’s hand starts to cramp from how tightly he’s holding the axe. Figgis whinnies, sounding uncertain, and Zolf hums, keeping him moving forward. It’s not long before they round the curve of one of the hills, and something appears on the horizon. Zolf squints as he tries to make it out, but it just looks like a sea of broken rocks and boulders, ancient ruins that sit in front of a massive stone wall. He wonders what happened; if a structure had broken down, letting nature reclaim it for itself. 

It feels… more ominous than that, for a reason that Zolf can’t identify. Something about it sets his nerves alight the closer he gets, and not for the first time he curses the fact that he can’t  _ remember  _ anything. The shapes begin to get more distinct as Zolf gets closer, and when he gets to the outer edge of where the rocks start, Zolf’s heartbeat stutters.

They aren’t rocks. It’s a  _ graveyard.  _

Guardians litter the landscape, stretching out in every direction. It starts with one or two, and then ten, and then  _ more _ as Zolf carefully guides Figgis down the path. They start to double up, pressed together, one climbing over the other, and Zolf can’t shake the muted terror that settles into his bones. They’re all completely broken down, legs torn off and laying scattered in all directions, metal nearly creating a pathway through the grass. Flowers have sprung up on all sides of the Guardians; some grow straight through them, vines wrapping around the body as it lies there, still and silent. 

The Guardians only become more packed the closer they get to the wall, and Zolf can feel his breath coming in shorter and shorter bursts as he and Figgis become properly surrounded by the skeletons of these beasts, until he’s barely able to take a breath. He’s shaking, and he doesn’t know why. Thoughts are racing through his mind, creatures crawling over each other and turning their bright,  _ bright _ red gaze on him, and Zolf has to shut his eyes, trusting Figgis to lead them through the graveyard without his assistance. The sight of the guardians all around them floods his mind, and Zolf’s grip on his axe becomes, somehow, even tighter. 

He doesn’t feel safe here. The Guardians might seem dead, but any moment, they could come back to life and strike him, sending a laser beam right into - 

Zolf gasps and his eyes fly open, half-expecting to see one of the guardians staring straight at him, but they’re all silent and unmoving. It doesn’t settle the anxiety in his chest, and he keeps a white-knuckled grip on Figgis’ reins as the horse maneuvers around the metal bodies.

He has no idea what happened here, but it can’t have been good. How the wall remained standing, he has no idea, and yet... Zolf can’t shake the feeling of familiarity that brushes over him, the faint sense that he should know this place. That he  _ should _ know what happened here. A shiver runs down his spine, and his hands only start to shake even more. He gently digs his heels into Figgis’ side, and the horse picks up the pace. 

_ The quicker we’re out of here _ , Zolf thinks grimly,  _ the better. _

They pass through the open gate in the wall and leave the graveyard behind them. Zolf refuses to turn around; he swears that he can feel them all watching him as he passes, and waits for the moment when one of them will come to life and chase him down. It doesn’t come, but it still takes much, much too long after they’ve left the graveyard for Zolf to stop feeling a phantom gaze trained directly on his back. 

He doesn’t stop again, keen on getting as far away as he can, and by the time the sun is setting, he can see the shadow of a village on the horizon. He spurs Figgis forward, relieved that they’ve finally made it to what Zolf is  _ assuming _ is Hateno. The sign above the village confirms this when he gets close enough, and Zolf sighs in relief. There’s a small pub right near the village, and Zolf pulls up outside the building as night falls; Zolf figures it’s as good a place as any to try and get any sort of information about the mysterious person he needs to find, considering he’s running on basically nothing at this point. He ties Figgis up outside and lets him bend to drink the water left in the trough; satisfied that Figgis will be alright, Zolf pushes the door open, stepping into the pub. 

It’s emptier than he thought it would be; from the lights and noise coming from the door, he assumed half the town would be in here; there are only a few people in the corner, looking a mix of morose, tired, and relaxed, but it doesn’t take long until he realises that most of the noise is coming from two elderly ladies sat at a table near the bar. They’re  _ completely  _ pissed, these girls. elbowing each other and laughing hysterically as Zolf tries unsuccessfully to get their attention. They eventually spot him, still laughing, and quiet down a bit as Zolf steps up to their table.

“Buy you a drink?” Zolf’s finally able to ask, signing slowly since he’s sure their vision will be doubled. 

One of them cheers, clapping her hands together, and pulls Zolf in, hands clammy and warm where they wrap around his. “Oh, he’s a good one, he is! Haven’t seen you around here much, and I’d  _ remember.” _

Zolf pulls his hands out of her grip and signals to the barkeep to bring over a few more tankards of mead. “No, not from around here. Passing through.”

“A  _ stranger,” _ one of them titters, looking him up and down appreciatively. The tankards are set down on the table in front of them, and the two of them reach out and take a long drink from their cups.

“Was wondering if I could ask you two lovely ladies a question?” Zolf gets out, finally extricating his arms from their grip as they drink, and takes a sip of his own tankard.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” one says, and slaps him on the back. Zolf chokes on the swig of mead he’d just taken, and gives her a smile around the pain. For an old woman, she’s  _ strong.  _

“Looking for someone. A bit of a… researcher, I suppose. Apparently she doesn’t leave much. Don’t know much about her, if I’m honest. Can’t imagine you two have a clue?”

They both look lost in thought for a while, though Zolf can’t tell if that’s because they’re actually thinking or if they’re just  _ that  _ sloshed. Finally, though, they seem to clip back into the conversation.

“Oh, you’re looking for the recluse!” one of them says, snapping her fingers. “They live up on a mountain. Came here right after the castle fell and never left. Honestly, if people didn’t deliver food up there every so often, we’d think they were dead.”

“The recluse?” Zolf echoes, and the other one nods.

“Haven't you heard the  _ rumours,  _ love?” one of the old ladies says, and elbows her… friend? Wife? Partner? Zolf can’t tell. “They’re a horrible beastie, they are. Ashamed of it _.  _ Can’t go out in civilised society anymore, so they just waste away up on the hill.  _ Tragic _ .”

“Doris, you’re so  _ full  _ of it!” the other one nearly shrieks, hitting Doris on the arm. “That’s not the rumour! The rumour is that they’re on the run from a jilted lover. Had to go into witness protection and everything.”

Doris shakes her head violently. “No,  _ no,  _ Sandra, you’re remembering it all  _ wrong.  _ Honestly, where’s your head at, dear?” 

“Doris, Doris, love, that’s not the story at all!” Sandra corrects, wagging a shaky finger at her. “Remember, Elijah was telling us the other day, we -“

Zolf pushes himself away from the bar with an apologetic smile as Sandra continues her tirade, leaving Doris looking more and more amused with each passing moment.

“Hate to leave, but I’ve got an early start,” Zolf signs, backing away before they can grab him again. Doris and Sandra wave, newly enthused by the refill that the bartender has given them.

“Ooh, good luck, love!” Doris shouts, ignoring (or just not noticing) Zolf’s wince at the volume. “Be a dear, come tell us which one of us is right when you get up there?”

Zolf pastes a smile on his face. “I’ll do my best?” he hedges, and Doris and Sandra both cheer. The noise follows him out of the pub, and Zolf runs a tired hand down his face as the door shuts behind him. He turns, and glances up at the tower sitting atop the hill to the east of the village. The description sounds right - in line with what Curie said, but Zolf doubts that any of the rumors that Doris or Sandra were peddling are even close to the truth. 

It’s too late to go up there tonight; Zolf will have to spend the night and make the trek up in the morning. His first stop is the stables; Figgis nuzzles softly at the back of his head while Zolf leads him away.

_ Sorry,  _ Zolf thinks, running a hand along his nose.  _ They’ll have food for you there.  _

The stable isn’t far, thankfully; it’s small, and uncovered, nothing like the stables he’s seen on the road. This is more of a small barn, with pens for the horses, and Zolf registers Figgis with the man at the front. He lets the stablehand take Figgis away, flipping him a coin for his troubles, and then trudges over to the inn, digging in his pockets for his last few coins. It’ll be just enough to stay for the night, he realises, and feels a small pit forming in his stomach. He’ll need to go to the shops, soon, see if he can barter or trade some goods for money. Otherwise, it’ll be back to sleeping in old shacks he can find on the side of the road, or in front of the campfire at a stable. 

He’s picked up a few daggers along the way, for no reason other than sentimentality and a sense that he  _ should,  _ but they’re all rusted through and broken. A blacksmith would probably buy them off his hands, just to melt down the metal and use it in something else. 

He’s too tired to make a decision, so he just heads up to his room, pushing in the door and carefully locking it behind him. The bed is hard and uncomfortable, but at least it’s not the ground, and Zolf sits heavily on the edge of it, gingerly pulling his prosthetic off. The fight had aggravated it; the subsequent  _ whatever _ that Azu did to it didn’t actually help. He’ll have to examine that soon, figure out why Azu was still there, what she did, and how she was able to, and then what  _ happened _ to him, but he can barely even string a coherent thought together at the moment. He shoves the whole thing into the back of his mind, resolving to deal with it later, and rolls over, falling asleep in moments. 

His dreams are a confusing mash of memories that he can’t quite make out, laughter and warmth coming from someone at his side, and then a pain spreading out throughout his entire body as his vision slowly fades away, turning to a swirling darkness that consumes him in the dream, punctuated only by a furious roar. 

It fades when he wakes with a start; the sun is slowly filtering in through the curtains over the window, and Zolf lets the dregs of the dream escape back into his subconscious as he covers his eyes. It’s early, but he feels more rested than he has in a while. He stretches, and then leans off to the side, grabbing his prosthetic from where he left it last night. He puts it on carefully, frowning down at his grumbling stomach as he gently tightens the straps. There’s still a bit of bread and fruit in his pack; it’s not much of a breakfast, a slowly-turning-stale roll and an apple, but it’s better than nothing - and it’s  _ quick,  _ which matters more than anything else, really. 

It’s a warm morning; the mountains keep the village from most of the cold winds coming from the west, and Zolf figures he can walk to the tower instead of having to go grab Figgis, as it’s not too far. 

The trek up to the small tower gives him enough time to stormily stew in his own thoughts about how much easier this would be if people just  _ talked  _ about things. Gods. Curie could have just  _ told  _ him who it was, and then he wouldn’t have had to go through the entire circus of trying to find a person he knows nearly nothing about. It’s a short walk, so he doesn’t have a lot of time to get completely settled in his thoughts; Zolf wonders if he’s always been one to get locked in his head, but realises that there isn’t really anyone he can ask. He’s tempted to think yes. 

He gets up to the door before long, and pauses, just for a moment. He takes a deep breath and knocks, anxiety slowly overtaking the bone-deep exhaustion that’s become a constant companion. For a moment, there’s silence, and then a small window in the center opens up. 

“Who is it?” he hears, a croaking voice that Zolf can barely make out. A beady eye that… glints, almost, poked itself into the window, and Zolf realises that it’s fake - a telescope, of sorts, to see who it is. Helpful for him, actually, considering he was about to sign his name. He doesn’t get a chance to, though, because there’s a gasp, and then, in a quiet, trembling voice, all hint of a rasp gone, he hears, “ _ Zolf? _ ”

The door unlocks not a second later; it’s pitch black inside, and Zolf realises it must be something magical from the way it vanishes the second he’s unceremoniously tugged over the threshold. He’s stood in what looks like a small lab; table in the corner, a strange pedestal in the center of the room with  _ something  _ sat above it. It’s cosy in a way he hadn’t expected it to be, walls of bookcases lining the walls chock full of volumes of all different colors and sizes. 

And then, he finally realises someone’s stood in front of him, a short, Arabic woman with pure white hair. She’s old, as old as Curie, and she has a strength about her, an unshakeable resolve that Zolf can feel in her gaze.

He doesn’t recognise her at all - she almost looks a little bit like Hamid, but Zolf only has one memory of him, really, and honestly, it’s hard to tell. They stand there in silence for a moment, both sizing the other up, and Zolf brings his hands up to sign a question when she finally speaks.

“You don’t recognise me,” she says, a knowing and regretful look in her eyes.

Zolf shakes his head. “Sorry.”

Half a smile flits across her face. “I suppose you wouldn’t, even if the resurrection hadn’t taken away your memories. We had… worried, that that would happen. I’m sorry, Zolf. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that.”

Zolf chews on the inside of his cheek. “Not your fault,” he signs, and she shakes her head.

“More my fault than you might think,” she says, as cryptic as everyone else on this bleeding continent, and Zolf has to refrain from rubbing at his temples. Why can’t anyone just  _ communicate? _

“Sorry, but… who are you?” he asks, and he knows it comes off kind of rude, but he’s quite tired of not knowing what’s going on. 

She takes a deep breath, and when she looks back up, there’s a regality in how she holds herself. “My name is Saira al Tahan,” she says, and there’s a  _ power  _ in her voice. “I am the second-oldest daughter of his majesty, Saleh al Tahan. My entire family was killed when Mars rose and destroyed the castle. All but Hamid, who’s been defending the castle all alone for a century.”

“I - I thought you all died in the attack?” Zolf asks, shock making his signs slower than normal. Wilde had  _ told  _ him everyone died, that he’d been the only survivor off the onslaught, that the castle itself had been completely routed. 

“My survival was a secret,” Saira says. “I was lucky to have been hidden away when the attack came, and was able to slip away. I’ve been hidden away here since -“

“Why haven’t you gone to help?” Zolf signs slowly, cutting her off as his brow furrows. “You’ve - you’ve been here, all this time,  _ hiding,  _ and he’s been -“

“I  _ tried,”  _ Saira breathes, and Zolf’s hands falter. There’s a weight to her words, a  _ grief  _ that feels heavier that anything Zolf has carried, and she turns away from him. Her arms wrap around her midsection as she walks toward the small window in the house, and she stares out of it. “Time and time again. I believed we could storm the castle. That if we just had enough  _ numbers…  _ we could retake the castle. We -  _ I -  _ could save Hamid.” She takes a slow, steadying breath, and when she turns back to look at Zolf, her eyes are dark with regret and pain. “So many people died. For me. Because I wanted to save him.”

“I didn’t -“

Saira shakes her head and Zolf stops. “You think I’m happy that Hamid has been fighting alone, all this time? That I haven’t been doing anything I can to try and beat back Mars?” Zolf feels guilt spread through his body, and he chews on the inside of his lip when Saira wipes her eyes, tears starting to spill down her cheek. “I  _ left  _ my brother there. For  _ years.  _ I tried everything I could and it still wasn’t -“ she takes a breath, steadying herself, and looks back up at Zolf. “It has to be you. We thought we could change things, but if 100 years of fighting hasn’t worked… I think you’re the only one who can stop him. The only one who can save Hamid.”

“No pressure,” he signs, frowning, and Saira inclines her head, a small laugh that’s wracked with guilt and pain and anger sounding like it’s being forced out of her.

“I  _ am _ sorry,” she says. “I know… it’s not fair. But legends are legends for a reason. Stories have a grain of truth to them. We all - we all resisted the prophecy for as long as we could, but when Hamid’s magic was finally awakened… we couldn’t ignore it any longer.”

She walks away, taking small steps, and Zolf can see how  _ tired  _ she is. He moves to help her and then halts, aborting the motion when he realises it’s the last thing she’d want. She sits down at the bench next to the table, looking for all the world like her years have caught up to her; still, the fire never dies from her gaze. 

“I know you didn’t want this,” she says, eventually, and Zolf stiffens. He’s tired of telling people what he did or didn’t want. That’s - that’s not  _ him.  _ The image they all have of him, he doesn’t even  _ remember  _ that person. He’s just… he wants to be able to exist as  _ himself  _ instead of as a memory. 

“How’d you get out?” Zolf asks, desperate for a change of subject, because they’re coming too,  _ too  _ close to things that he won’t even let himself think about unless it’s under the cover of night. 

“The bodies in the castle… they were so burned, Mars would never be able to tell who was who. I was spirited away by the Harlequins and lived in Kakariko village for a while, until… the cult of Mars sprung up.”

Zolf’s mind stalls for a moment; it’s nothing Wilde or Curie told him about. “The cult of  _ Mars?”  _ he asks, and Saira tilts her head at his confusion. 

“I - my apologies,” she says, and there’s still something regal in the way she bows her head to him in apology. “I expected Curie would have briefed you on the matter.”

“She didn’t,” Zolf signs, frowning. 

“They… they follow Mars,” Saira starts, looking troubled.

“Yeah, I  _ got  _ that,” Zolf signs. He’s not sure about the rules around being rude to a royal, but he doesn’t much  _ care  _ right now. Saira seems to pick up on that, at least, and while she looks slightly irritated she lets it pass.

“For the past 100 years, the cult has been trying to release Mars from Hamid’s bindings, and attacking the Harlequins who are trying to stop them. They  _ like  _ this new world,” Saira says, disgust showing plain on her face. “They want Mars to be recognised as a new god, and are tired of Hamid containing him. There’s no chance they’ll ever make it to the castle - I never thought I’d be  _ thankful  _ for the guardians, but they don’t recognise friend from foe, and the cultists aren’t skilled enough or  _ magical  _ enough to dodge the ones dotted around the castle. Mars’ own little security team.” 

Zolf holds up a hand, and Saira pauses. “What does this have to do with me? Seems like a problem for the Harlequins.”

Saira frowns. “You - Curie didn’t tell you, but… they know about the prophecy. About what  _ you’re _ fated to do. They know they can’t let you succeed in saving Hamid.”

“So?” Zolf asks, still unsure of what the problem is. “As far as they know, I’m dead. Right?” 

“That’s what we hope,” Saira says. “But… saving the Divine Beasts, bringing them back around to our side, well. It won’t be long before they figure it out. And once they do, you’re going to be their target, Zolf.”

Great. Just what Zolf needed. A  _ cult. _

“How do I avoid them?” he asks. 

“They have a hideaway in the desert,” Saira starts, but a troubled look creeps over her face. “They - they don’t stay there, though. Not always. A few Harlequins have run into stragglers, posing as regular Hylians. They attack us on the paths. You just need to be careful. Stay away from the more popular trails.”

Zolf doesn’t want to think about how much more time that will add to his journey; he thinks he can probably take one or two cult members if it comes down to it, but Saira looks so stern that he can’t help but nod. 

“Okay. Is that all you wanted? Is this all I needed to hear?” Zolf signs, knowing that he sounds like an arse but feeling as though this was a massive waste of time.

“No, there’s… there’s another legend you need to hear about,” Saira says, sounding uncertain. “Curie - she doesn’t know this. Well, she knows  _ of _ it, but that’s not - this is something that I only know because of… Hamid.”

Zolf blinks, surprised, and Saira chews on the inside of her cheek. “What do you mean?”

“Hamid - he swore me to secrecy, said that you two were the only ones who knew anything about it, but he was worried about Mars and about his power, and… he promised me that if anything happened, I would go here and get the sword, but -”

“Sword? What sword?” Zolf asks, feeling his thoughts whirl. 

Saira takes a breath. “Let me start at the beginning. The legend speaks about a sword that can seal away the malice of Mars, and the hero - you - who can wield it. Not much else is known about it, but you and Hamid managed to figure it out, one day, and get the sword. Hamid wouldn’t tell me anything about it until a few months later, and I - I know where the sword is, now. Where it went, after that last battle.”

“Where?” 

“There’s a forest, north of the castle. It’s shrouded in mist and protected by magic. I’ve tried to get in, to get the sword, but I can never make it far before I end up back at the entrance again. The sword is there. If there’s any hope of beating Mars, you’ll need to get the sword,” Saira explains. “I’m sorry. I know that there’s a lot on your shoulders, and wish that I could help more.”

Zolf can tell that she speaks the truth; her shoulders hunch up, and he recognises the hint of shame on her posture from seeing it in a mirror every single morning when he’s woken up, alive and alone.

“Thanks,” he signs, impatient to get on his way if information is all Saira had for him. “Can I leave, now?” He knows he’s being rude, but Saira seems to take it on the cheek and not rise to the tone apart from a subtle frown that appears on her face.

“You can go,” she says. “But there’s one more person you need to meet with.”

Zolf’s a bit tired of being told he needs to meet with people: Hamid’s alone in the castle, and he’s busy with the welcoming committee? It doesn’t sit right in his chest, drags the guilt over his shoulders again, just how he feels every time he has to put off saving Hamid for another  _ quest. _

“Don’t give me that look,” Saira snaps, uncharacteristically stern, and Zolf feels his frown only widen. “He can help you defeat Mars. He made the stones, and knows more about them than anyone else on here. There are also weapons that you need to get to fight the guardians. Go up to Akkala - there’s a tower at the most northern point of the plateau. Trust me.”

Zolf’s really all out of trust, at the moment, but if what Saira is saying is true, well. Zolf doesn’t think he stands a chance against Mars, not like this, so if this stranger can help, well. 

“Fine,” Zolf signs. “Anything else? Or can I go?”

Saira sighs, and shakes her head. “You can  _ rest  _ if you want, here,” she says, gesturing toward one of the rooms. 

Zolf gives her a bitter smile. “No. I can’t.”

He turns and heads toward the door, because there’s nothing else left for him here, and he  _ knows  _ he’s being rude to Saira, but if he isn’t trying to save Hamid, then none of this is worth it. 

“Zolf… you don’t have to do this alone, you know?” Saira asks before he can leave, and Zolf feels himself tense, hand on the doorknob. “There are people out there who can help you. It doesn’t have to just be you.”

Zolf wishes that were true. He knows it’s  _ partially  _ true; Curie and Amelia wanted to help him, and Saira is offering, and even  _ Wilde _ ended up finally cluing Zolf in to the mystery that is his  _ entire past _ , but it’s not the same. It has to be him. No one else can take the sword, no one else can get into the castle, and no one else can defeat Mars. The entire weight of this rests on his shoulders, whether he likes it or not, and no matter what anyone else says, there’s no version of this where it doesn’t.

It’s why he was saved, after all. Why everyone else died, why Hamid didn’t try to resurrect anyone but him. Because it’s  _ only him  _ who can bear this. Zolf’s not stupid. He knows his purpose.

“I have to go,” Zolf signs, and Saira stares, looking like she wants to say something else. “I can’t waste any more time.”

It doesn’t come out the way he wants it to, the way he means it to. He’s starting to get the feeling that this is just how him speaking goes.

Saira shrinks back, a bit. There’s a look on her face that he can’t quite make out, but then she moves. Zolf fliches, but she just comes up and gives him the tightest hug he can remember.

“Please,” Saira whispers, head tucked against Zolf’s chest as she wraps her arms around him. “Save my brother.”

Zolf takes a moment, a bit surprised, but eventually hugs her back. Something about it feels familiar, almost, but he doesn’t linger on the feeling for long. He’s used to feeling like that, now. It’s… it’s nice. He wishes he could remember her. He wonders if they’d been friends, back before… everything. If the royals were even allowed to be friends with the guards.

She lets go of him, and there’s a fire in her eyes that belies her age; Zolf suddenly understands how she managed to make it as far as she did, when fighting back against Mars’ forces.

He gives her a nod and leaves, heading to the stable and grabbing Figgis, thanking the servant who hands him over. The ride out of the village is short, with Zolf keeping his head down and ignoring the whispers of the townspeople around him. He glances out over the cliff once he’s out, drawing Figgis to a quick halt as something  _ twangs  _ in his chest, a feeling as though he’s been here before. Zolf recognizes the sensation from back before the Domain, and swings his prosthetic over Figgis’ back as he lands solidly on the ground below. He scrambles through the pack on the horse’s back, fingers searching for the smooth surface of the stone. 

It doesn’t take him long to find it and pull it out; he quickly pulls up the images, and slowly scrolls through them until he realises that he  _ was  _ here, he and Hamid. In - a spot, just over there, near the trees. Zolf follows the path until his view is identical to the image on the stone, and stares out, waiting for the same feeling to overtake him as before. It comes slower, this time around; the pressure builds gradually, almost like a warning, and his hands begin to tremble as he stares,  _ willing  _ himself to remember. His vision starts to go black around the edges, and Zolf  _ feels  _ the strain this time around, pulling at him until he can almost see - 

_ Zolf is going to  _ **_kill_ ** _ Hamid. He’s been riding hard since the morning, ever since he  _ **_woke up_ ** _ and found Hamid’s bed empty. They’d been sharing a room in an inn on the way to Hateno village, where Hamid was meant to meet with the villagers and hear their concerns about being so far away from the castle in case of emergency. Neither of them have spoken since they’d left the castle; it’s just another diplomatic mission, one that Hamid doesn’t want to be on, and one that Zolf doesn’t need to be here for, but the king’s orders are the king’s orders. They’d gone to sleep fairly normally, Zolf out like a light nearly the second he’d hit the pillow, but when Zolf had woken up, Hamid’s bed had been empty.  _

_ His thoughts had swirled around in his head, immediately sinking to the worst possible conclusion - that Hamid had been kidnapped. He’d gotten his prosthetic on in record time, and ran over to the innkeeper, signing frantically to ask if they’d heard anything in the night. His rushing had been for naught, though; the innkeeper had told him that Hamid had gotten up early and gotten his horse and left. They’d found it strange that Zolf wasn’t with him, but weren’t going to say no to the prince.  _

_ Zolf had thanked them for their help, gotten Giffis out of his pen, and now he was riding toward Hateno, to catch up with Hamid. God. If anything’s happened to Hamid, the king will have his  _ **_head._ ** _ But not before Zolf’s had Hamid’s. He knows that Hamid hates being beholden to a guard, but that doesn’t mean he just gets to run off whenever he feels like.  _

_ It’s a while before he gets close to Hateno, and worse and worse scenarios run through his mind the longer it takes. Maybe Hamid was forced to leave. Maybe he’d been… Zolf doesn’t know, possessed or something. Maybe he’d been taken the second he was out of sight of the stable and he’s gone, he isn’t coming back, and Zolf is going to have to go back to the palace and tell Saira that his brother is - _

_ He shakes his head. He can’t think about that, right now. Hamid… Hamid is going to be fine, he’s going to have just up and left on his own, and Zolf will have worried for nothing.  _

_ It’s fine. _

_ After a while longer, he spots Arellia, tied loosely to a tree, and immediately turns Giffis in her direction. The horse shifts without missing a beat, whinnying to get Arellia’s attention. It’s clear now that nothing’s happened, that Hamid just did decide to go directly against Zolf’s orders, and that he’s fine. Honestly, Hamid should be  _ **_wishing_ ** _ he’d been kidnapped, now. Zolf isn’t going to let him out of his sight for a minute after this little stunt.  _

_ Hamid doesn’t look at him when Zolf tries to get his attention, but Zolf  _ **_knows_ ** _ Hamid knows he’s stood there signing furiously at him. He could  _ **_shake_ ** _ the little - no, that way treason lies, and as much as he’s currently enjoying the mental image of slinging Hamid over his shoulder and dragging him, probably kicking and screaming, back to the palace, he still does have his orders. So instead, Zolf waits, because the only other person who can go toe-to-toe with him on stubbornness is stood right in front of him. _

_ Hamid finally turns, and his face is carefully blank in the way it is when he’s facing down other nobles or his father. Zolf hates it - it’s just another mask.  _

_ “Where the hell were you?” Zolf signs, feeling nearly incandescent with rage, and he knows he’s signing quickly but he doesn’t really care. Hamid needs to pay attention.  _

_ “You were taking too long to get up,” Hamid says, sounding carefully measured. Zolf’s spent enough time with him to know when he’s trying to be all diplomatic, and it isn’t going to work on him.  _

_ “Why. Did. You. Leave,” he asks, punctuating each sign to the best of his ability. _

_ “We had some more research to do,” Hamid says,  _ **_infuriatingly_ ** _ calm, and Zolf shakes his head. _

_ “Why did you go off alone?” he asks, because Hamid seems hellbent on refusing to answer that question.  _

_ Hamid huffs a sharp breath and crosses his arms. “I don’t need your protection, Zolf. I’ve read the reports, there are no monster camps in this area, and as you can see, I’m fine.” _

_ Zolf wants to shout. “That’s not - the point isn’t that you’re okay  _ **_now,_ ** _ it’s that you’re reckless and run off whenever you think it’s alright without ever considering the consequences!” _

_ “Zolf, I’m not a  _ **_child_ ** _ ,” Hamid says, voice steadily rising in volume. Zolf can see he’s slowly getting angrier and struggling to hide it. “You’re not even ten years older than me. So stop treating me like some immature princeling!” _

_ “Oh, right, so mature,” Zolf signs, gestures having lost the normal appearance of calm that he tries so hard to maintain. “Running off from your appointed guard to pitch a tantrum. You could have been killed.” _

_ “I don’t need your  _ **_help!_ ** _ ” Hamid shouts, hands on his hips as he stares at Zolf. “I can protect  _ **_myself,_ ** _ and I don’t need  _ **_you_ ** _ or anyone else constantly watching me! I - I’m not some weak prince who doesn’t know what he’s doing. So just. Leave me  _ **_alone!”_ **

Zolf comes to with his axe lying in the grass next to him; the blades are tickling his face in the slight breeze, and he rubs at his face. He gets to his feet (next time, he’s sitting down, first) and stares out over the cliff’s edge, confusion and irritation and loneliness warring for purchase in his chest. 

_ Gods damn it, Hamid,  _ he thinks, only an edge of bitterness to the thought as he makes his way back to Figgis’ side. Every new memory just makes everything more confusing; even Saira had talked about how much they cared about each other, and Zolf thinks on some level they  _ do,  _ if his drive to get to the castle is to be trusted. If it’s not just latent  _ guilt.  _ It’s just - everything he’s remembered so far clashes so heavily with everything he’s  _ heard,  _ and he doesn’t know what to trust.

It’s hard, not even being able to trust yourself. To trust the memories that live in your head. It’s like Saira said. This is the legend. He’s the hero, and Hamid is the prince, and regardless of what they  _ wanted _ , they apparently weren’t able to have it. Zolf figures it’s not that much different from now, really, even if he doesn’t remember much of what it was like the first time around. 

He leans against Figgis’ side for half a second, steeling himself before he grunts and climbs atop the horse. He has to continue on. Hyrule, and Hamid, are counting on him. He... really doesn’t have a choice.

**Author's Note:**

> the mobile stone in this au is just the sheikah slate but imagine it looking like the circular map thing from treasure planet in terms of function
> 
> also blanket apology bc i have no idea when i will be updating


End file.
